


His Aesir Heart and His Jotunn Soul

by OkieDokieLoki



Series: The Warrior and the Scholar [1]
Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies), Thor (Movies)
Genre: Awesome Frigga (Marvel), F/M, Intersex Loki, Jötunn Loki, M/M, Not Thor: The Dark World Compliant, Odin's A+ Parenting, Parent Loki
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-26
Updated: 2017-02-26
Packaged: 2018-09-27 02:49:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 43
Words: 53,456
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9947462
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OkieDokieLoki/pseuds/OkieDokieLoki
Summary: Returned to Asgard for his punishment for committing genocide on Jotunnheim and for attempting to takeover Midgard, Loki's sentence is carried out. Will he learn from his past mistakes or is his condemned for the rest of eternity?





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Winterheart](https://archiveofourown.org/works/9851081) by [goddamnhella](https://archiveofourown.org/users/goddamnhella/pseuds/goddamnhella). 



> This rather monstrous work, while not published first, is my first fanfic. I am quite proud of it, so I ask you to be kind and I ask you to enjoy reading it as much as I've enjoyed writing it.
> 
> This work was inspired by the fabulous 'Winterheart' by goddamnhella and Jotun Loki by Red-Szajn, which can be found here: http://www.deviantart.com/art/Jotun-Loki-323943920  
> Thank you for inspiring me!

The suns brilliance reflected off the gold ornaments, filigree and veining in the hall, creating an excess of grandeur causing everything to sparkle, blinding in its glory. The hall, house to the throne of Asgard, was typically used for celebration. Feasts would last for days within its magnificence. Parties for foreign dignitaries and companies of traveling players from all nine realms would cause the walls to sing the music of the spheres. The richest delicacies concocted by the most talented and revered cooks and chefs would cover every inch of the long tables found along the sides of the massive space as well as added benches and tables for each occasion that would be found under the multitude of pillars. This hall was to be the central location of the wedding of the millennium - that of Thor and his mortal woman, a Jane Foster of measurable intelligence, who soon to be gifted long life as the new Queen of Asgard and All-Mother to the Nine.

  
No such celebrations would be had today, however. The small contingent of soldiers were dwarfed by the great marble buttresses, their boots echoing along the nearly deserted hall. There were only six of them, too few, some thought, for the task that they were appointed, dressed in their battle regalia. Four, the two in front and two in back, had their weapons drawn. The middle pair held chains, spelled with runes of ancient text, heavy and rattling with the steps of the seventh man. His ankles, wrists, and neck were bound with the heavy manacles of misdeeds and weighed down with the promise of punishment.

  
The chains, however, did not seem to phase their captive. His sharp, green eyes roved the hall, taking in everything before focusing on the ten figures in front of him on the floor and steps around the dais at the far wall of the hall. His eyes wandered over their faces. Six were masks of perfect servitude, not betraying a single thought. One was clearly angry, her fierce brown eyes drilling holes into the prisoners chest, hands, and face as she grasped the arm of her soon-to-be husband. Two were distraught under masks of calm. It was to be expected, the man knew, as they were the people whom he had hurt most. Lastly, the man sitting on the throne, his one eye shining in the light from the hundreds of windows, looked hard and resolved, his decision made.

  
As the small group reached the dais, the front soldiers peeled back, leaving the imprisoned man at the front of the group. Seeing that his audience was in place, the man brought his heels together with a solid thunk, bashing the ankle shackles together, and mockingly stood at attention.

  
Smirking through his self-doubt, the chained man opened his mouth to speak. “I don’t see what all the fuss is about.”   
He leaned around his closest guard, towards the woman standing on the steps of the throne, “Hello, Mother.”

  
The woman shuddered, tears forming in her grey eyes. “Oh, Loki,” she whispered, her hand twitching to hold her little boy.

  
The man on the throne glowered, his one eye flashing dangerously as his mouth turned downward. “Do you not feel the gravity of your crimes? Wherever you go, there is war, ruin, and death!”

  
The man whipped his head around to face the grizzled elder on the throne and shrugged. “I went down to Midgard to rule the people of Earth as a benevolent God...just like you, Odin, All-Father.”

  
Odin stood, gripping the arms of the throne in his simmering rage. “We. Are Not. GODS! We are born. We live. We die. Just as humans do.”

  
“Give or take five thousand years,” Loki retorted with an almost cheerful tone, again masking the fear that broiled in his stomach with a display of nonchalance.

  
Odin sat with a huff, reaching for his spear, Gungnir, as it rested against the right arm of the stone structure. He stated, “All this because Loki desires a throne.”

  
Loki’s face shifted into one of defiance. “It is my birthright.”

  
“Your birthright, Loki LAUFEYSON, was to die as a child! Cast out on a froze rock!” Loki flinched as his real father was revealed to all that were present, an unwanted reminder of his true nature and heritage. Odin continued matter-of-factly, “If I had not taken you in, you would not be here now to hate me.”

  
Loki was done playing games. He realized with Odin’s use of Laufey’s name he had disowned him, the second and lesser son, literally rescinding his claim to Loki and his misguided quest for fatherly approval and a throne to call his own. Not wanting to wait any longer, Loki yelled, “If I am for the axe, then, for mercy’s sake, just SWING IT!”

  
A muffled sob and a forceful exhale retreated from two of the figures to Loki’s left. His gaze shifted to them briefly, painfully reminded that his punishment would also have an effect on his mother and brother. Selfishly, he threw that thought away, as he glared, without a hint of remorse at the man who caused his destruction. He tilted his chin up and narrowed his eyes. “It’s not that I don’t love our little talks, it’s just...I don’t.”

  
It seemed as if an enormous weight had suddenly appeared on Odin’s shoulders as he slowly stood and shifted Gungnir to be held in both hands. The bright, golden point focused on Loki’s chest, leveling out at his breastbone.

  
He began, his voice deep and rich with enchantment,“I, Odin Borson, King of Asgard, and All-Father of the Nine Realms, hereby declare Loki Laufeyson an exile of Asgard and I cast you out. For your crimes against the humanity of Midgard, you shall live out your days in isolation on that planet in a cell with the unbearable torture of solitude. You shall NEVER see Frigga or Thor again.”

  
Frigga was visibly shaking as she sobbed uncontrollably into Thor’s armored shoulder. Thor looked composed though tears rolled down his cheeks and into his blonde beard as he held his mothers head and hands. Jane looked smug, arms crossed over her torso.   
Odin continued in his commanding tone, “I bind your magic until, as such a time, you are worthy to wield it in unselfish ways.”

  
A slow, dragging sensation swept its way along Loki’s limbs, head and chest, visibly manifesting itself in the green shimmer that Loki recognized as his power. It rolled down his arms and into the hand manacles which began to shift and reform into vambraces of shorts, riddled with runes to contain Loki’s powerful gift. As the magic pooled and absorbed into the cuffs, Loki began to feel weak and exhausted. He squared his shoulders, not wanting to appear weak before the wielder of his demise.

  
Odin concluded, his voice conveying the utmost gravity, “For your crimes against Jotunnheim, I also release you from the enchantments binding you to any form but your true self until you learn the importance of all life. This is the sentence of the All-Father, so mote it be.”

  
A sinking feeling of dread filled Loki’s chest. _Not that. Anything but that. DEATH is better than being a monstrosity_ , he thought, his jaw slack and his eyes wide as he stared at the end of Gungnir which had started to glow.

  
With that, a brilliantly bright rainbow of color and light erupted from Gungnir and forcefully hit Loki square in the chest, causing the younger god to stumble and blinding all the were assembled. When the light faded, a loud clatter rang throughout the hall as Loki’s empty chains, collar, and ankle shackles fell to the floor next to a pile of discarded leather, metal, and green wool.


	2. Chapter 2

After the blinding light of Gungnir, the crushing black engulfed Loki in an unexpected torrent. It filled his lungs and stole his breath as he spun through nothingness until, suddenly, he crashed onto hard stones, bruising his left side and slamming his head against the rough, unyielding surface. He breathed again, gasping for air and a sense of control in his new surroundings. Once the throbbing in his temple subsided, Loki slowly raised himself to a seated position, ignoring the protests from his ribs, arm, and hip, and opened his eyes. The chamber that he was sentenced to was dark, dimly lit by a lone lantern in the corner furthest from him and from a high window about twenty feet up the wall in front of him. Moonlight shone through the window, casting eery shadows into the dark corners of the prison. The floor was cobblestone and ran about twelve feet by twenty feet with high walls that reached up towards a ceiling that Loki could not locate. The lower ten feet of three of the four walls was draped in a thick fabric that was heavy to the touch. The corner closest to him had a small, twin-sized cot with what appeared to be a straw mattress and a lumpy pillow. The adjacent corner housed a door of rough wood with an iron ring handle built into the only roughly cut stone wall.

  
Loki gingerly got to his feet, wincing slightly as his still protesting head spun, and headed for the door. He grasped the handle and was rewarded for his troubles by a squeaky but yielding door. Hoping against all hope that Odin may have overlooked an escape route, Loki peered through the gloom to find a bathing chamber with a toilet, sink, and tub. A quick test of the rusty pipes showed him that there was running water, brown and freezing, but it was water nonetheless.

  
As Loki reentered the main chamber and closed the door behind him, he realized something. Pausing with his hand on the iron ring, Loki stared at his pale hand. Slowly raising in front of his face, Loki turned it over and over, running his other hand over it before turning his hands to his inexplicably pale and bare feet, arms, and chest. The vambraces were still present, but were relatively lightweight against his creamy arms. They were not what Loki was examining. Running towards the lantern and opening its shutter, Loki began to smirk. _He has failed!_ , he crowed. _I.WIN!_

  
Turning his face to the high ceiling, Loki shouted, “All-Father! You have grown weak with your old age!”

  
He began to laugh with abandon. He would not be spending the rest of his life as a beast after all. With a final smile, he made his way over to the cot and laid down, waiting for sleep to take him, the loss of his magic as well as his pounding head and aching side still weighing heavily on him.

  
The mattress was scratchy, the straw poked through in places, and the pillow was a disaster, flat and musty. _It’s definitely not home_ , he reflected, thinking of his expansive bed and fluffy pillows. The wind howled outside the high window, whipping into the cell and causing Loki to pause. He reached around him for a blanket but found none, his hand groping in the partial darkness under the bed and mattress for even a shred of cloth. His lack of clothing was beginning to disturb him. Why had Odin seen fit to take his clothes and then leave him in this freezing hell-hole?

  
Sitting up, a bit too quickly for his heads liking, he scanned the room for anything to use as a covering. His eyes were immediately drawn to the walls and the strange hangings that draped them. Not knowing what their use was, Loki was not entirely sure he wanted to remove the coverings. The whistling wind again filled the chamber extinguishing the lantern, causing Loki to shiver violently in the darkness. Grudgingly, he got up off of the cot, fumbled for the hanging at the base of his bed and tore. The ripping sound and the cascade of heavy, but warm fabric filled the room and caused Loki to smirk again. _Foiled once more Odin. I shall not freeze to death here on your command._

  
Pulling the fabric after him, Loki crawled back onto the cot and wrapped his new-found blankets around him and went to sleep.  
________________________________  
_Hot. HOT. TOO HOT._ Loki woke in the darkness suddenly feeling as if he were on fire. Sweat pooled along his brow, chest, and under his arms as if is were the hottest day of summer in the Svartaelfheim desert. Scrambling, he pushed the curtains off of him and kicked them unceremoniously onto the floor. Relieved of the constricting weight and warmth of the fabric, the pleasantly cool air played along Loki’s skin and hair, lulling the god back into a dreamless sleep.   
________________________________  
Sun streamed in through the high window, illuminating the right side of the small room and falling across the sleeping face of Loki. Startled by the sudden surge of warmth, his breathing hitched in his throat and his eyes flew open, blinded by the light that burned into his eyes. He raised a hand to shield his sensitive pupils from the onslaught of the sun before turning and sitting up on the itchy cot. He closed his eyes again, stretching his tired and cramped limbs above his head and emitting a soft moan as the kinks were worked out of his back. Rubbing his face, Loki removed his hands with a soft huff, opened his eyes and screamed.

  
He was staring at a man, thin but with defined muscle across his torso and arms, black, shoulder-length hair disheveled and unkempt. The man’s eyes, green and round with fright, stared back at Loki out of his blue face. Blue. A royal blue that traversed not only the man’s face but his arms, torso, and bare feet as well. He was wearing Loki’s leather pants, but he guessed that the blue continued under the garment.

  
Shaking, Loki slowly raised his hand, the man in front of him mirroring his motions, and looked at his slender fingers and palm. The shape and size was clearly his own, but the startling shade that had replaced his pale, translucent skin, was not. His eyes traveled down the hand, past the vambraces that glinted almost gleefully in the sunlight, and onto his forearm. The offending shade continued, coating his body in a dark blue hue. Gasping for air that suddenly seemed scarce, Loki sharply looked up again at the figure opposite him. He was staring into a mirror.

  
_That BASTARD!_ Odin could not be satisfied with knowingly forcing Loki in his loathed, monstrous form, he’d made certain that Loki could not escape it. _I can’t have that. I can’t live with this constant reminder of my true nature. Living it is enough. SEEING it is cruel_ , Loki seethed. Balling his fists, he gathered his strength and threw himself at the mirror, attempting to smash it, demolishing the fixture from the cell wall and the image from his mind. Pounding into the unyielding surface until his knuckles bled a deep shade of midnight blue mixed with scarlet, Loki realized that he was getting nowhere with the mirror. Staggering away and off the bed, he fled to the furthest corner of the room, still mercifully dark, curled into a ball and screamed his rage, hot tears flowing down his azure cheeks.


	3. Chapter 3

**Asgard**

  
“But I cannot see why you are prolonging this torture.” Her voice cut through the haze of his thoughts. Of course Frigga was spying on their - no _her_ \- son. It had been less than twelve hours and she was already complaining that the mass murderer’s sentence was too harsh, an agony for her to watch and a torture for him to implement.

  
Odin sighed, shifting his weight on the throne as he removed his gaze from the huddled blue figure on Midgard. “Frigga, my beloved, there is nothing I can do.”

  
“Yes, there is! WHY do you prolong the transformation? It appears to have just begun!,” she snapped, her grey eyes flashing at his single blue one.

  
“It is not a transformation. That is why it will take a long time, my dear. It is the unraveling of over a thousand years of transformative seidr. Unlike when our - _your_ son touched the Casket of Ancient Winters, he is not aided by the seidr of his people. There is no magic to help speed the process or ease the physical suffering that his body will have to endure.”

  
“So you knowingly condemned _OUR_ son to elongated torture all in the name of JUSTICE because of a transformative spell that _YOU_ placed upon him as a babe!” Frigga’s voice was growing shrill with anguish.

  
“Silent woman!,” Odin barked. “You know not the reasons for my actions! This - _torture_ , as you define it, will bring about his self-acceptance. The entire process will take about a year and once complete, he will have to live in his hideousness for the rest of his long and miserable life! IF, and I mean _if_ , he is lucky enough to escape his prison, he will find a place among his true people. He will NOT be welcomed here, not after what he has done. Now, BE GONE, Woman. Leave me in peace.”

  
Odin turned away from his wife who was drawing ragged breaths against her tears. _This is our baby boy your talking about_ , she thought, dismayed by her husbands lack of any emotion besides partially veiled anger. Frigga turned towards the door and swiftly made her way to it, pausing in it’s archway, she turned again to face her husband and king. “Did you not think that this pain will alienate him further from his true self? Who would want to accept anything that has brought them only excruciating suffering?”

  
With that she turned and exited, her skirts billowing behind her. She would help her son, whether Odin wished her to or not. He needed to know what he had brought upon himself.   
_________________________________

  
**Misgard Prison**

  
Though his rage had subsided and his tears had long ceased to flow, Loki remained curled around himself, wallowing in his own misery for what seemed like hours. His back, bottom, and legs protesting the tight confinement of the position did not stop the man or hinder his train of thought as his hands ran incessantly through his hair.

  
_Why_ , he repeated the question again into the nothingness of his jumbled thoughts. He knew why. Odin’s sentence had made it clear. He was being punished for the suffering he had caused on Midgard and the genocide he attempted on Jotunnheim. He knew that. But _why_ had Odin chosen this. It was painfully clear that he no longer wanted anything to do with Loki, disowning him in front of witnesses had assured him that, but why not kill him and be done with it? _Why_ this continuous torture? All in the name of _finding his true self?_

  
His thoughts circled like the ravens that his fa- Odin kept, plaguing him but remaining unanswered. _I bind your magic until, as such a time, you are worthy to wield it in unselfish ways. **How** would that even be possible?_ His prison was one of solitude, one of the only features that Loki approved of. He did not want any to see him in his truly monstrous form. _I also release you from the enchantments binding you to any form but your true self until you learn the importance of all life._ His _true self_. What a lie that had been. There was nothing true about the blueness that discolored his limbs. It was a falsehood and one that he would never accept as an integral part of his self. _The importance of_ ALL _life_. Loki remembered saying something about an ant and a boot to that hot-headed, eye-patch wearing agent of SHIELD in the not so distant past. Did he truly need to find rest with all creatures, worms to horses, ants to humanity? Somehow, Loki doubted that the All-Father had that in mind. Loki knew that he would NEVER reconcile himself with one race, no matter that he was forced into becoming one himself. _This is the sentence of the All-Father, so mote it be. Who even talks that way any more? Did Odin prefer it to modern vernacular so that he would sound high and mighty, wiser than the common horde? There was NOTHING that made that man special. **NOTHING.**_

  
His thoughts were interrupted by a disturbance in the cool air around him. _Seidr_. His head snapped up, eyes scanning the wall in front of him for the source. The signature was familiar to him, warm, a glowing beacon in the darkness of this imposed purgatory. _Frigga_. Loki quickly rose to his feet, ignoring the protests from his cramped body, and whirled around to face the opposite wall. “Mother!”

  
The word had escaped his lips before he could stop it, his weakness pronounced for all to hear. He was facing the damned mirror again, but instead of seeing his hideously blue reflection, he was greeted by a blurry image of the woman that he called mother.

  
Frigga, looking sadly at her youngest, whispered, “Loki.” And he ran to her, leaping over the forgotten bundle of drapery before stopping abruptly in front of the mirror. Frigga smiled, morose hidden beneath it’s surface as she placed her palm against the glass. Loki looked down at his own hand, the blue flesh a blatant reminder that she was _not_ his mother, before slowly raising it to touch the glass.

  
“Oh, Loki, my beloved son. I am so sorry.” Loki tore his hand away from the glass as if burned.

  
“I do not want your pity, woman!,” he spat, green eyes flashing.

  
“I know,” Frigga sighed. “I know. You pride has always been your downfall. Living in the shadow of your father,” Loki flinched, “and your brother has been hard for you. Know that I have loved you through it all, and I love you still, which is why I am here.” Her image wavered.

  
“I am conducting powerful seidr to get this message to you. I do not think that I shall be able to do this again, especially if your father,” another flinch from Loki caused Frigga to rephrase, “ - Odin finds out that I am helping you.” She paused, waiting for Loki’s gaze to meet her own before continuing, “Listen carefully. On the wall opposite, behind the drapes is a book shelf. I have transported books there for you - books that will help you through this troubling time as well as in the future. They will help you understand what your father and I could and now cannot tell you.”

  
Turning to face the wall that his mother spoke about, Loki scoffed, “What future, Mother? I am trapped here for all eternity in my own misery, in flesh that I cannot - _will not_ call my own.”

  
“Loki!,” Frigga snapped, “Pay attention for what I tell you now may save you from that fate!” Loki snapped his jaw shut and faced the goddess once more.

  
Frigga continued, calm reentering her voice. “The wall next to that, under the window is also mostly mirror but it also contains cubbies. One for food, which will appear twice a day, every day, for the entirety of your imprisonment here. One for water, a small spring that will flow to quench you thirst, even in the deepest of winters. And one for herbs. You know of herb lore and do not need seidr to wield the potions and poultices that they will make.” Frigga flickered, causing Loki to reach out to her, his hands pressing against the glass.

  
“I don’t have much time. Listen to me, Loki,” she whispered desperately, “The lantern will light itself in the evenings, though you will not need it to as your true self is revealed.” Loki backed away from her, his head shaking as he turned his hands over and over.

  
“You mean I am not done?” he implored, his voice shaking.

  
“No, my darling, it is only just beginning and it will take a while to fully manifest itself.” Loki’s shocked eyes flashed up to her, tears brimming. Frigga could see the ruby hue of Frost Giant eyes beginning to bleed in to the white, slowly, ever so slowly. Gently, the Queen of Asgard whispered, “Please remember, my son - and you are and will always be my son, no matter what your actions, no matter what form you take, I will _always_ love you. My Lok-”

  
With that being said, Frigga flickered and fade from the glass one last time, leaving Loki to stare at his reflection.


	4. Chapter 4

He backed away from the image displayed there. His skin, still that ghastly shade of azure, seemed to sparkle in the dying sun, like glacial ice. It was his eyes that he had noticed now. The pupils were still black against an emerald cornea. The emerald, such a rare shade for an Aesir, still floated in white, but there was a ring forming around each eye that had not been there that morning. It was blood red, frightening to behold, causing Loki to think and remember his minimal interactions with the race he despised. Their skin was blue traversed with paler blue lines and markings.  _Scars_ , Loki thought, and their eyes were ruby and piercing. Glaring at his reflection with the solid blue skin and green eyes, Loki knew that Frigga was right, he had only just begun.

  
Tearing his eyes away from his startling form, Loki retreated to the far wall and clutched at the heavy drapery. Not wanting to expose more mirror, though he doubted that his mother had lied to him, he carefully drew the drape back along an invisible curtain rod to expose shelves. Rows and rows of books, spines solid and erect before him, caused Loki to draw a shaking breath. His mother had been true. Slowly, Loki retreated to grab the lantern, lit in the slowly ebbing light from the sun, and returned to the shelf to scan the titles his mother had left him. The top three shelves consisted of histories, stories, fictions, and texts about Jotunnheim and it’s inhabitants. Disgusted and vowing to never read a single one of those books, Loki began to scan the bottom shelf. It contained books of herb lore, many of which had come from Loki’s own chambers in Asgard. He had read some of them so often that the covers were hanging by threads and he could quote the entirety of the texts. Sighing at the lack of anything that he truly wanted to read, Loki returned the lantern to the corner and laid down on the cot, breathing in the musty sent of the straw as he again fell into dark despair.  
________________________________

  
The sound of birds assaulted his ears, a disgustingly cheerful sound to wake up to, especially after all hope was lost to him. Loki pulled the lumpy pillow out from under his head and pulled it down over his ears. The sound persisted, cutting through the thin pillow with ease. “Will you SHUT. UP?!”

  
The command came out as a violent shout of indignation as Loki sat up in bed, careful not to look in the mirror at it’s base, and began to scan for the creators of that ungodly racket. The sun’s first dim rays were working their way into the cell through the high window. The window ledge seemed to be housing a rather large contingent of starlings, shrill and obviously upset about something. Loki’s eyes narrowed. _What was bothering them?_ “I’m sorry if my presence disturbs you, but you’re going to have to get used to it,” he snarled, swinging his legs off the bed, his eyes on the cobbled floor of the cell. It was then that he saw it, a young starling, feebly cheeping below the window, lying broken in the early morning light.

  
He had always had a soft spot for birds. In fact, he was jealous of them and the freedom that their wings provided, how contrary their life was to his own. Gingerly, Loki padded towards the mound of feathers on the floor, the racket escalating with each step he took towards the obviously injured or ill bird. The other starlings, whether out of fear for their companion or rage towards his sudden interest in it, began to swoop into the chamber, diving in towards Loki, beating him with their wings and pecking his head. Frustrated, he covered his head with his arms, but refusing the urge to swipe at them, crying, “I’m trying to help! Let me see what is wrong!”

  
Slowly, he bent down, examining the bird but not touching it, still trying to ward off the offended mass of feathers around his head. The young starling was most definitely injured. It’s neck, right wing, and legs was caught in what appeared to be fishing line. It was a miracle that it had been able to fly this far.

  
Whispering sweet nothings, he calmly stated, “Shhh. Shhh, my Little One. I am only try to help you. I know that I am frightful to behold but I am gentle. I promise.” It feebly chirped at him, eyes wide, as Loki slowly lowered his hands towards it. The bird desperately tried to hobble away from him, not getting far as Loki gently picked up its struggling form.

  
“Shhh. It will be alright. You are safe now,” he murmured softly. The birds heart, so rapid, beat strongly against his palm. The body was so warm to his touch, almost scalding in comparison to his own blue flesh, that Loki initially thought that the bird must be ill as well as tangled, only to remember that it was not the bird but himself whose temperature had changed. Keeping his frosty nature grudgingly in the back of his mind, Loki held the bird in his left hand as he carefully picked at the knots around the birds neck, minding his little charge’s beak while being assailed by those of his companions.

  
Realizing that there was no way he could help the starling while being attacked, Loki carefully got up, still holding the young bird to prevent it from further entanglement, and wandered towards the wall that stood under the window. Upon pulling the right side of the drape back, Loki caught a brief reflection of blue and quickly dropped the fabric, not wanting to reveal more mirror to remind him of his current state of monster. Instead, he walked the length to the left corner and gently pulled in back to reveal the three cubbies. One held a roll, some grapes, a pomegranate, and a hunk of cheese, the one beside it housed a small waterfall, a cup, and a bowl. The final cubby held a single leaf. _Rosemary_ , Loki thought, a muscle relaxant and pain reliever. _Perfect for my charge_. He grinned as he pulled the plate of food off the shelf and brought it into the square of light under the window. The assailants landed on the ground next to it, quizzically looking at the offering as Loki returned to the second cubby, filling the bowl with water before setting it next to the food. Lastly, he took the sprig of rosemary and forced it into the young starling’s squawking beak, praying that the dosage would not be too much.

  
The birds, all quietly eating the food, left Loki alone with the little bird which had begun to relax in his palm. Loosening his hold on it, he began to pick at the line, slowly making headway against the string that was binding the bird. Hunch over, Loki diligently went about his work, ignoring the pain he felt from sitting on the hard cobblestone and the soon overwhelming heat of the sun. When he had finally freed the starling, he looked up, his eyes, blinking in the bright light at the bird’s companions who, having finished the grapes and bread and tested the cheese, stared unblinkingly back at him, heads cocked curiously. He set the little bird down on the ground in front of him, letting the delicate beast hop to its companions. _It’s family_ , Loki thought, sadness and jealousy welling up inside. _It’s family stood by it, even when it fell into the hands of a monster_.

  
Slowly, Loki shifted his weight. The sun, once a glimmering companion that he spent many of his waking hours with, was taking a toll on his new physique. Not wanting to disturb the birds, he back away on his knees, scraping the leather of his breeches on the stone, into the shade. The flock, aroused by his slow movements nonetheless, took to the air, circling around his chamber with short, angry chirps before flying out the high window. Loki raised his hand to them as they went, free into the world, longing with all his heart to join them in flight to escape this Hel he had been forced into.

  
A soft cheep stirred him from his self-depreciating thoughts. He glanced down to find his little charge peering up at him, inquisitively. “Feeling better, Little One?” he breathed, a small smile flickering on his lips. The starling hopped forward onto Loki’s leather-clad leg, chirped happily, and then took to the air, flying out the window to follow his friends into the blue expanse of sky.


	5. Chapter 5

Gingerly, trying not to tweak his back or legs further, Loki stood. He had not eaten in two days and his stomach, shrunken as it may be, protested it’s lack of nourishment. Looking down at the plate, Loki picked up the pomegranate in his cold, blue hand and carefully bit into it. The sweet juices and seeds filling his mouth with such want that the fruit was consumed quickly. Next, though warmed by the sun and tested by a few brave birds, Loki also scarfed down the cheese, clearing the plate of any remaining food before returning it to the cubby. Though his stomach still reminded him of the meals that he had skipped, it’s protests were fewer and less needy. Taking the cup, Loki filled it to the brim with the spring water that flowed in the second cubby, and greedily drank the cool liquid before returning the vessel and the bowl used by the birds to the space.

  
Glancing about the prison, but still lowering his gaze when confronted with the mirror, Loki’s eyes rested on the door to the smaller chamber. His arms and hands were crusted with dried blood, a dark blue pigment like ink. _A bath might do nicely_ , he thought, thinking of a way to erase the shocking color off of his already foreign skin. Opening the door, Loki initially thought that the lantern might be needed. He recalled that there was no window in this tiny, cramped washroom, but quickly realized that, by leaving the door open, it was nearly as bright as the main chamber. He plugged the ancient tub, complete with clawed feet, and began to run the water from the tap. It gushed out, rust colored but warm, a comforting sensation against his skin. Lulled by the water, Loki removed his breeches and loincloth and submerged his aching limbs in the warmth, for the first time in his imprisonment feeling at peace. He closed his eyes and submerged his head below the surface, before resurfacing and running his fingers through his tangled hair, resolving to remain in the tub until the warmth receded.   
____________________________________

  
Hours later, Loki awoke, the warmth of the tub had remained constant and his aching limbs had begun to burn less. _Curious_ , he pondered, _Why is the water not cold?_ Then he gasped, pulling himself out of the tub and releasing the stopper, letting the further discolored water swirl down the drain. Of course the water would feel warm! His skin, his entire body temperature had dropped drastically in the last few days. He remembered the freezing temperature of the water when he had first run the tap and now, the water was comfortable! His predicament raced to the forefront of his mind. Monsters did not feel cold because they _were_ the cold! And he was one - a creature of winter, a blue harbinger of death to those who touched him.

  
The heat of the surrounding air in the chamber quickly evaporated the loose water from his skin, allowing him to cover half of his offending body with his undergarment and trousers as if only being half blue was better than a full-fledged creature. He stumbled into the main chamber, blinking in the light, the lit lantern with the raise shutter was nearly blinding if he looked at it straight on. Shielding his eyes, Loki ran to close the shutter, muting the light from the lantern but doing nothing to diminish the remaining light in the chamber. The moonlight that streamed through the window seemed as bright as the noonday sun, casting shadows, yes, but none were an impenetrable blackness. The colors of the stone and in the book bindings and covers were muted slightly, but still very much present, a feature that his Aesir eyes would have lost with the closing of the lantern shutter.

 

Slowly, breathing in through his nose and out through his mouth, Loki turned to face the mirror, the bearer of evil in his mind as it revealed each step he took down the road to becoming what he truly loathed. His general reflection had not changed much since two mornings ago. His raven hair was brushed now, better kept than it had been, pooling around his broad shoulders in gentle waves, still very much his hair. It was getting long, though he could not even think of cutting it. Long hair was a symbol of power on Asgard and he wished to retain some semblance of his past. He would braid it back, out of the way in the morning when it was completely dry. His gaze continued to scrutinize as it swept downward. The vambraces remained present, suppressing his seidr and his only true way out of this prison and fate. They were clasped around his royal blue arms, now free of the midnight blue blood, but gently scabbed from the assault by the birds. His chest, still his own slim but fit figure, was wrapped in azure as were his hands, feet, and face. The newest addition to his body, however, were his now glinting ruby eyes. The corneas were slightly darker than the surrounding scarlet, with the still black pupils nestled in their centers.

  
Unthinking, Loki reached up to touch his face, still very much his own in all but color, recalling Frigga’s words. _The lantern will light itself in the evenings, though you will not need it to as your true self is revealed_. He gasped, scrambling back onto the bed, squeezing his eyes shut, wishing away their color and new ability to see clearly through the gloom.


	6. Chapter 6

Sometime in the night, Loki’s rumbling stomach woke him none too gently. After many failed attempts to suppress the growling in numerous positions on the straw mattress, he grudgingly rose. The room was no longer flooded with moonlight, causing it to be dimmer than earlier in the evening but, due to his new eyes, he could see clearly. Hopping gently off the cot, and roughly pushing the pile of drapery underneath the piece of furniture and finally out of the way, he made his way across the cobbled floor to the diagonal corner where the cubbies were located. Taking the cup, Loki filled it and drank deeply, filling his stomach with the cool liquid to the point where he could feel it sloshing as he moved. The food cubby had a plate ready for him with another roll, a couple of beets and carrots, and, lastly, a leg of lamb, slow roasted and still warm.

  
Hungrily, he pulled the plate to the floor and rested his back to the wall under the cubby. Taking the roll off the plate, he set it aside. _Who knows, maybe the birds will return tomorrow_ , he shrugged. The company, even of meager intelligence and no conversational skills, was welcome at this point. The brief conversation with Frigga notwithstanding, he was missing the noise of others: his brother’s booming laugh, Fandral’s stories of romance, Sif’s tales of glory, the Avenger’s bantering and bickering, even the plotting of his captors and torturers in the Void. Nowhere had left Loki feeling so alone and insignificant as this dungeon on Midgard.

  
Upon placing the roll out of the way, he grabbed the leg of lamb, his hands not uncomfortably burning with the rich juices that dripped from it, and raised it to his eager mouth. The first bite was heavenly, causing his stomach to rumble anew. Loki ate greedily, with reckless abandon, every last piece of meat was sucked from the bone before he once relinquished the prized food. The root vegetables, always a favorite of his, were a bit of a letdown after the lamb, but he scarfed them down anyway, not realizing until that point that he had been famished and that his body, even in it’s altered state, still needed food to survive.

  
Replacing the plate but leaving the roll on the ground, Loki wiped his greasy hands on his pants and, full stomach distended, returned to bed.  
_________________________________

  
_The wind howled, pulling at his hair and loincloth but not effecting his temperature. The dim light, caused by the filtering of the sun through the clouds, pregnant with snow and ice, reflected off of the icy battlements of a castle that Loki had only seen once. Utgard, the capitol city of Jotunnheim where he had first learned of his true heritage._

  
_Shivering from fear of being found, Loki, backed up into what felt like solid rock, until he realized that it felt warm. Two enormous arms grabbed his small, thin ones, lifting him off the ground with ease, in spite of his struggling and yelling. He was rapidly spun around to face the one Frost Giant he had never wanted to see again. Laufey, his father, the king of Jotunnheim, whom Loki had killed at Odin’s bedside almost two years ago._

  
_“Welcome, my son. Even a runt and traitor such as you has made it home,” Laufey leered at Loki, his face contorting into a hideous smile that revealed sharp, pointed teeth._

  
_“But something is missing.” The king’s eyes roved over Loki’s blue body, glared into his ruby eyes before finding what Loki was apparently lacking. Instead of stating it the king drew the struggling man’s body closer to him and kissed the crown of his head before cackling, “Welcome to MY family - **son**.”_

  
_Loki was falling, back into the black void, everything eluding him except for the kiss which burned with the cold fire of frostbite._   
____________________________________

  
Loki woke gasping for air. _It was just a nightmare. Laufey is long dead. He could not touch you now even if he wasn’t! NO ONE KNOWS WHERE I AM!_ His thoughts brought his focus back to the present and the cheerful cheeping of birds.

  
Smiling, Loki rolled off the mattress, again avoiding the mirror at all costs, and found the starlings waiting on his window ledge looking at him expectantly. They had returned, filling him with a joy that he had not felt in a while. He scrambled over to the roll from his dinner and pulled out the replenished plate from the food cubby. The fare today was the same as the day previous except the pomegranate was replaced by an apple. Throwing the second roll onto the plate and filling the bowl with water from his spring, Loki brought the offerings to the square of early morning sunlight before grabbing the apple and cheese and retreating from the warmth of the sun’s rays, already uncomfortable against his blue, icy skin.

  
As he watched the birds, Loki reflected on all that had come to pass in the last few days. He had been brought before his fa-Odin, not his father - _never_ his father, to face punishment for his crimes against the Jotunn and against humanity for the murders that he had committed by his own hands and through his commands. While the genocide of the Frost Giant race was something that he still did not entirely regret, Loki understood that he should have been punished for those crimes. Though, truly, would not Thor or the King of Asgard done the same in his stead? His demotion and demonization into that despicable race seemed a bit overbearing for that crime in itself. No, the true punishment was the continuation of something that had begun in the darkest reaches of the Void. Odin, All-Knowing, did not know about Thanos or the Other, did not understand the tortures that were forced upon him, the fact that he had had no choice in the matter. Survival was his only goal, survival at any cost. If that meant living out his days as a monster with starlings for company, so be it! At least he was rid of the physical pain that accompanied the mental torture. The mental anguish of this prison, Loki felt, had only just begun. He chuckled. _To think, I have been here five days and the greatest connection I have made is with a flock of stupid birds._

  
The birds, having finished the plate, began cheeping again, looking to the god in all his blue majesty before again taking to the air, circling the cell and vanishing out the window, Loki’s gaze again following longingly. A soft, but close peep caused him to look down at his feet to the young starling. The bird again looked at him quizzically, as if asking him something, though what it was Loki did not know, before again hopping onto the god’s leather-clad shin, and taking off to follow his family. Free.

  
Loki immediately regretted thinking that the birds were dumb. There was something about that young starling that seemed utterly intelligent to him, though he couldn’t quite figure out why. Sighing, he ran his hands up his face and into his hair, pausing, only to remember that he was going to braid it to keep it from becoming an utter rat’s nest. Gently combing the inky strands with his nimble fingers, he quickly drew the hair into an expert braid that ran from the crown of his head and down his back. Returning to the drapery under his cot, Loki skillfully tore a long thin strand of the material and tide the braid in place.

  
As he pulled the braid around to better tie the knot, his forehead began to ache. _I must have pulled the hair to tight_ , he sighed, tossing the hair back behind his shoulder as he wound his way across the cell towards the little room to relieve himself. Splashing some water on his face, hoping that the warmth would take some of the ache away, Loki began to feel a throbbing not just on the crown of his head, but also in his finger and toes tips, as if someone has cut off the circulation and the blood was just beginning to return to the digits.

  
Returning to the main chamber, Loki quickly cried out and collapsed to his knees. His toes, fingers, and forehead were burning. The sun, still not at it’s full peak must have burned him in it’s intense gaze. Struggling to stand and silently cursing Odin again for sending him here, for cursing him to this horrific form, he struggled to the one corner that was out of the sun - the one next to the mirror. Upon reaching the shade, Loki had figured that the burning sensation would have subsided, withering without the direct sunlight that blinded him and wreaked havoc on his unnatural pigmentation. Instead, it intensified, crawling slowly up his fingers and toes and radiating out from his forehead.

  
“ _What_ is _wrong_ with me?” Loki moaned, once again curling in on himself to stop the burning, to block out the sun, to find comfort in the closeness. The present pain was white hot and searing as it intensified, causing Loki to scream wildly, his voice cracking in the effort to rid himself from the pain, this form, _ANYTHING_.

  
He leaned into the mirror, the surface was surprisingly cool and alleviated some of the pain in his forehead. Unwillingly, Loki opened his eyes and looked into the glimmering wall, mentally sneering at the irony that this object of pain was giving him some sweet relief, even if it was brief, was the one that was the constant reminder of the mental pain this devastating form caused him. His ruby eyes looked back at him, terrible and startling against the blue skin. He looked vicious, dangerous, and utterly lethal with those eyes. _Now I truly look like a man capable of the crimes that I have wrought_ , he thought snidely. Unable to hold his own gaze in the mirror, his eyes drifted up to the throbbing heat that was located above them. With a shout, he leapt backwards, almost falling off the end of the bed, before pulling himself back into the corner out of the hot sun. His forehead was marred with a pale blue circlet that was growing - it was actually growing before his own eyes, drifting up under his hair and down along his temples. The source of the fiery pain was the line. _One little line!_

  
Swiftly, Loki pulled his arms up so that he could examine his fingers. The blazing trails were growing there as well, reaching the second knuckle and beginning on his thumbs, taking shape in the form of lines, dots, whorls, and spirals, each tenth of a millimeter more painful than the last. Slowly, almost dreading what Loki knew would be revealed, he looked down at his burning feet. Lines. _LINES! **LINES!**_ What were they and what witchcraft had Odin added to his hellish punishment?!

  
He fell off the bed onto the mercifully cool cobbles, scrapping his skin in an effort both to cool and to stop the spread of the intrepid lines before realizing that the self-inflicted pain was only adding to his already tortured body. Stopping, he sprawled on the ground, leaning his left side against the cool mirror, praying for the torture to end.

  
Loki soon lost all train of thought, consumed by the raging lines that slowly etched their way across his body.


	7. Chapter 7

**Asgard**

  
Frigga could not look any longer, spilling her scrying bowl on the table in an effort to take the image of her baby writhing on the floor mouth agape in screams that she knew he could not hear. Hot tears choked her, clogging her throat as she clutched the bowl to her chest in the absence of her son.

  
He had been like that for two weeks. TWO WEEKS crying, begging, pleading for mercy from the All-Father, from anyone who would listen. He had not made the effort to eat or to even stand. His birds avoided him after the first two days, his cries scaring all but the littlest one away, the one he had saved. The bird, a smart beast, remained faithful, breaking from its flock every morning to sing for him and to bring him a gift, laying it gently on the cobbles away from his thrashing form but close enough for him to reach if he became lucid. Mostly, the bird brought rosemary sprigs, remembering the tiniest piece that it had been given, making it feel better.

  
Frigga longed to take the pain away, to lift some of Loki’s burden onto herself, but, she knew that it would not be possible. Not only were the Jotunn ridges being slowly branded across his once smooth skin, the sun was beginning to take it’s toll. The heat, ever cool for the human inhabitants of the area, was burning Loki, molting his skin to a ghastly shade of purple, welting it and peeling, only to begin anew on the fresh blue surface revealed underneath the violet burn.

  
She stood, knocking the table over in her haste, and threw the bowl down after it. She had to do something for her little boy. She had tried to warn him with her gift of books. The Jotunn, born with most of their ridges, did develop more as they aged. Poor Loki, being almost born again into this new skin, not only had to endure the production of the adult lines that bloomed on the chest at about a thousand years of age, but also the birthed lines, plentiful and found all over the body. There was no need for the elements to inflict agony on him during this already painful transition.

  
Knowing that Odin was also watching made her wary. Her last interference had ended with the confiscation of her scrying bowl for over a week, one of the reasons why she was acting now instead of sooner. No, she needed to be discreet. Odin could not know of her plan for risk of further harm coming to Loki.

  
Quickly walking down the halls of the palace, head held erect, daring anyone to stop her or look her in the eye, the Queen turned down the halls of Bilskirnir, home of Thor and his fiancée, Jane. Spotting the sitting room doors open halfway down the hall, Frigga turned into them to find Thor and Jane the picture of domestic bliss. Jane, long brown hair plaited in the style of the Queen, was studying her materials - for what, Frigga had no idea, but she could not take the time to find out. Thor was kneeling in front of the woman, messaging her feet and was the first to notice his mother’s entrance.

  
Quickly standing and dropping Jane’s foot, resulting in the spilling of Jane’s charts and graphs and a loud “Hey!” from the sitting woman, Thor said, “Welcome, Mother. We were not expecting you.”

 

Jane also rose into a small, but polite curtsy, saying, “My Queen, please forgive my rudeness...”

  
“Nonsense! I have interrupted your time together, so I must be the one to apologize. Forgive me.” Frigga placed her hand over her heart before gesturing for the couple to sit. Gracefully walking around the couch on which the two lovers sat, Frigga took an arm chair facing them and sat. “Please leave us and close the doors behind you,” she asked as she gestured for the servants to go.

  
As the door firmly shutting resounded through the large room with a soft click, Frigga quickly threw up wards, keeping anyone, namely Odin, from witnessing the conversation that was about to take place. Surprised at his mother’s precautions, Thor asked, “What is it, Mother?”

  
Still glancing around warily, Frigga refocused on Thor and Jane before softly and shakily saying, “It’s your brother.”

  
Jane gasped and grabbed Thor’s beefy arm, stating, “We are not concerned with him. After all he did on Earth...”

  
“What is wrong mother?” Thor interrupted, holding a hand up to Jane. “Hasn’t he suffered enough?” It was then Frigga noticed the bags under her eldest’s eyes, the faint glowing hope in the depths of those same weary orbs, the mouth, once so willing to laugh, seemed to have permanently turned its corners downward. Her son continued before she could speak, “I know why he attacked Midgard. He told me in confidence and I am not willingly going to share it with any, but it is not for the reasons that many would think. I do not deny that he should be punished for his crimes, Jane. They are horrific in nature, but I think that you should not be so quick to pass judgement without knowing the full tale.”

 

Turning from the shocked face of his mortal consort, Thor continued, “What is wrong, mother?”

  
Frigga, tears brimming in her eyes, brought on by sorrow for one son and pride for the other, said, “You will make a great King, Thor.” The god blushed and lowered his head, humbled by the acknowledgement of the great woman in front of him.

  
“Now we must talk of Loki, the poor lost and tortured soul that he is,” Frigga continued. “This point in his punishment is being particularly trying for him. You see, unlike the last time he transformed into his true self when he had the aid of the Casket, he is undergoing a particularly long and arduous de-spelling. Your father is undoing over a thousand years of transformation spells, drawing the process of Loki’s rediscovery of his true Jotunn form out over an excruciating period of time.”

  
“How long?” Thor interrupted.

“Your father reckons that it will take about a year for his true nature to be fully manifested.”

  
Thor cursed under his breath. “No one, and I mean _no one,_ deserves that, Mother. No one.” 

Jane gently grabbed Thor’s hand, her eyes beginning to brim with tears as she asked, “What can we do?”

  
Frigga smiled. She had always liked Jane, a smart and precocious woman who’s strength was revealed in the most unlikely of times and places. She would be a great Queen, complimenting her son nicely. Her gaze returned to the Thunderer before stating the reason for her visit, “Can you make it rain for him? The sun has been wreaking havoc on his body and the cooler air would be a relief. And you know that he has always liked the rain.”

  
Thor’s right arm extended, calling Mjölnir. “Where?”

  
“Paradise, Alaska.”


	8. Chapter 8

**Paradise, Alaska - Midgard Prison**

  
Thunder woke Loki from his stupor, the haze of the all-consuming fire that was still burning brightly, but was manageable. It had concentrated itself on his middle, right below his ribcage. Hunching over, moaning hoarsely through the pain, he rolled to his right side, away from the mirror towards the center of the room. Blinking, Loki’s eyes fell upon a small pile of herbs and a rather small starling. The bird, his - what had he called it all those weeks ago? _Ah, yes, his Little One._ It had not abandoned him in his time of need.

  
The starling chirped and took a few hops forward, picked up a sprig of rosemary, and dropped it into his hand. Trying not to concentrate on the hideous lines that traversed his hand and, as the pain continued along his diaphragm, the rest of his once pristine body, Loki’s fingers closed around the gift. “How kind of you, Little One, for remembering me,” he hoarsely murmured, slowly and laboriously drawing the sprig to his lips and slipping it inside, knowing full well that it would not help in the slightest. It was the generous thought that counted. Happily, the starling tweeted and returned to the pile for another sprig.

  
Loki chuckled, wincing visibly at the pain it caused in his abdomen. “I think I need a bit more substantial food, Little One.” The smart little bird chirped, and flew to the first cubby, poking it’s head out at him, singing brightly while waiting for his presence. Laboriously and very cautiously, one arm still wrapped securely around his still burning middle, Loki rose unsteadily to his feet. His left hand trailed along the wall, supporting his height and weight in his weakness. How long had it been since he had last eaten? Slept even? He was sure that he smelled atrocious, but what is a monster without a stench?

  
Reaching the cubby took nearly twenty minutes, his shuffling steps aided by the promise of a full stomach, the beautiful tune that Little One provided, and the comforting sound of the rain. The food space, thankfully, still produced nourishment, even if Loki had not eaten in a while. The normal plate was replaced by a bowl of thin broth and the ever present roll. Tearing the roll in half, Loki slid down the side of the wall, aware of the scraping on his still aching back, but too exhausted to care, and placed the larger half at his side. The starling flew to the bread and began to tear into it with reckless abandon. Loki smiled, at least someone had not lost their appetite. Using the remaining part of the roll, he sopped up the broth. It was tepid, but nutritious and it quickly filled his impossibly small stomach and rejuvenated his crushed spirit. The pain was still present, ever burning and branding his abdomen, but Loki knew that the worst must be behind him as he gave a satisfied sigh and closed his eyes.   
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**PAIN!** His ruby eyes shot open, taking in the twilight. Little One had left for the day, another sprig of rosemary lay in Loki’s open hand as a token. The searing pain had left his stomach area and traveled downward to a place that Loki had not thought it would touch. His eyes were wide and brimming with the shock of his sensitive organ being carved. Hastily, in hopes of relieving some of the pressure, Loki tore the leather breeches off his legs, leaving him in just his loincloth. The removal of the added fabric, while restraining the surprising hardness of his length, did not help matters. Scrambling against the torch that was his cock, Loki shucked off his undergarment, allowing him to spring free, and ran for the smaller chamber. Once inside, he turned the tap on full force and plugged the tub. He willed the brown water to flow faster, hoping to cool himself in the depths.

  
The tub was only halfway full when he couldn’t resist any longer and jumped in. Instantly, the fire died, the blazing trails continued but were no more than pin pricks along his skin. Stopping the water flow, Loki reveled in the feeling of the warm water against his tingling skin. He had been an absolute fool, he had realized. Frigga had gifted him with books of knowledge about what these stupid lines were and, probably, how they were manifested and dealt with on Jotunnheim. He may not want to be a Frost Giant, a monster that ate Aesir children in the darkest of night and caused their most frightening nightmares, but he was being forced into the body of one all the same. If he had swallowed his stupid pride, he could have spent so much less time in that raging inferno. He could almost hear Odin’s laughter at his self-inflicted pain, gleeful that he had chosen a punishment that would cause his disowned child’s pride to get the better of him. _Well, never again_ , he thought. _Never. Again._


	9. Chapter 9

The tingling and prickling sensation had finally subsided in his groin and had left his body entirely, much to Loki’s relief. He had not left the tub since he had discovered the seemingly mystical properties of the warm water within it since he had climbed in a day and a half ago. He had slept most of the time, the tingling sensation easily ignorable in comparison to the fire of the past month.

  
He was woken yesterday morning by Little One’s pleasant chirping and a stillness. The silence was unsettling as Loki could not place the cause of it at first. Then he realized that it was due to the absence of the rain and was suddenly saddened by the lack of the gentle shower. It had reminded him of his oaf of a brother, a comfort in the small room of his prison, reminding him of home. No, not home. Of Asgard. For better or worse, this...place was his new home. But at least he was no longer alone. Little One, ever the smart bird, arrived bearing the a scrap of the roll from his breakfast plate. For the first time, the little starling landed on Loki’s outstretched fingers and placed the piece of roll into his upturned palm. Smiling, he whispered, “Thank you, Little One.”

 

The bird, realizing that it had done a good job, preened under the praise and flew back out into the other chamber only to return heavily weighed down by what appeared to be the rest of the roll. Loki laughed jovially at the sight of the bird flying lopsided, a roll that was larger than itself clutched in it’s little feet. They ate the roll together, Little One sitting on Loki’s finger, careful not to touch any of the raised lines of lighter blue, and Loki picking small bites out of the roll with this other hand. After they had finished, the tiny bird sang, pulling the Trickster into a deep and dreamless sleep.

  
This morning, Little One woke Loki by landing on his head. As the god’s eyes flew open he was greeted by the delighted chirp coming from the beak positioned above his right eye. “Hello, my darling Little One. I am feeling better today. Should we venture into the main chamber?”

  
The bird quickly took flight, twittering happily to itself as Loki climbed out of the tub and into his loincloth. The breeches had been left outside from his mad dash into the smaller chamber and Loki was not sure if he would ever put them on again. _Why?_ he thought, shrugging, _There is no one to see me any way._

  
After the meager offering of the food nook filled both Loki and Little One’s stomachs and the bird had left, Loki grudgingly worked his way over to the books Frigga had brought. While titles of fiction and history pulled his interest, Loki instead grabbed a book about anatomy and biology, looking for the first time on the lines that traversed his slender, elegant fingers and the back of his hand before disappearing under the vambrace. The lines were not subtle to say the least, the light blue pigment literally standing out from the darker, royal blue hue of his ‘original’ skin. If it had been a painting, the intricate patterns would be stunningly beautiful in his eyes. But it wasn’t a painting. It was his skin, his once perfect, creamy skin that made even the female Aesir jealous. The blue patterning would NEVER be anything but ugly scarring in his eyes, another mar and flaw for Odin to bestow.

  
Pulling the book from the stone shelf, Loki turned to sit on the cot, the straw poking harshly into his surprisingly sensitive skin. Loathing his inability to even sit properly in this stupid new form, Loki grabbed the yards of drapery from under the cot and folded it over the offending straw before sitting again. Catching the flash of blue out of the corner of his eye, he swore an oath to never look in the mirror again, wanting to ignore the canvas that his body had become.


	10. Chapter 10

Opening the book, he scanned the Table of Contents greedily. Still wounded by his own pride, he vowed to read the text from cover to cover, not wanting to be caught unawares again. The first chapter, helpfully titled “The Body,” reviewed most of what Loki already knew of Frost Giants. The adults could reach over twelve feet in height and well above 1,000 pounds. Their ruby eyes, colored that way to help them see clearly in their often dark homeland, where also a distinguishing feature as they are the only race that had that color as an option and as it overwhelmed the coloring of the entire eye, not just the cornea. While they were built similarly to other races, being warm blooded (something Loki found hard to believe) bipeds, they had some differences, namely what was known as horned feet, Jotunn ridges, and their intersexuality.

  
Not knowing what any of those items were, Loki continued on to the second chapter, titled “Skin.” This chapter proved to be rather fascinating for him as it enlightened him to his recent...alterations to his appearance. Refusing to think of himself was he read, he was quickly immersed in the science behind the largest organ in his body. The unnatural (it would never be anything _but_ unnatural he vowed) hue was due to three things. The first, and by far the most important in Loki’s mind, was that the hue allowed the body to radiate cold, keeping the internal organs warm even through the coldest winters. The blue was also used to channel the cold into the creation of the weapons that were commonly used by the Frost Giants: Jotunn blades or ice collected and channeled along the hand and lower arm and honed to a sharp point. Some more powerful monsters are able to separate their Jotunn blades from their skin to create all sorts of weaponry, from maces to spears, to throwing knives. Lastly, the blue worked as a camouflage, allowing the large Giants to hide in nearly plain sight against the blue ice that covered most of their home planet. The skin was rough to the touch of an ‘outsider’ feeling almost like a piece of sandstone. To those of the Jotunn race, the texture was deemed silky and it’s toughness could withstand most weaponry made of leather, chain, and even softer metals.

  
Unable to resist temptation, Loki looked at the back of his left hand as it rested on the open page of the book. The blue skin with the wretched lighter lines really looked like canvas, a painting, but the texture was indiscernible. It still looked like, well, his skin, only it had been painted as if someone had played a prank on him. Shaking his head, he thought, _And what a prank this is. The Trickster God brought low by color, misdeeds, and utter contempt._ He reached across with his right hand, also displaying the mirror image of the patterned lines to his left and hesitantly touched the blue hand.

  
It was soft, velvety to the touch with the lighter blue whorls feeling like slightly raised ripples in the fabric. Absent mindedly, he stroked the skin, tracing the lines along each finger before flipping his palm upward and looking at it’s oddly line-free expanse. The typical hand lines were present, the life line, the heart line, and so on, but any sign of the velvety raised lines was absent. Instead of the velvety surface, Loki’s fingers found what felt like hard callouses, invisible to his eye, but built into the skin, a protection mechanism of some kind. He had better keep reading to find out about this phenomenon on his body. NO! he shrieked internally, rebelling against his fascination with the skin that covered his body. _It is NOT mine! Never! It belongs to the monster that I am being trapped inside. Yes, that is it. This is someone else's body._

  
Internal rebuking completed and right hand back on the side where it belonged, Loki’s red eyes returned to the page to find the chapter concluded. The third chapter, titled “Jotunn Ridges,” proved to be a thoroughly interesting read. Apparently that is what the lighter blue lines were called - Jotunn ridges. _An ugly name for an ugly scar_ , Loki thought as he began to read.

  
_The designs formed by a Jotunn’s ridges are unique to every individual, similarly to the fingerprints of a human, Vanir, or Aesir. And, also like a finger print, each design is categorized by shape, location, and meaning. Based on the ancient caste system, which is mercifully no longer enforced outside of the royal and noble families, the markings were not initially classified as equal. Social rank and occupation were establish from birth when a majority of the markings were already manifest. As adulthood is reached, the adolescent Jotunn receive more Jotunn ridges, primarily on the chest, to show that they have reached their full growth potential and can now be bred._

  
Loki blanched. Not only had his body carved every inch of itself, leaving him a runt among Giants, but the fact that some markings appeared as a sign of sexual maturity was startling. Not that he would need to worry about it. No one in their right mind would want to touch him with an eight foot pole, much less find him attractive in any sense of the word. He continued:

  
_The highest ranking Jotunn ridge to this day remains the Crown. Found on the top of the head, this signified royalty and is found in the shape of lines, chevrons, or whorls. This can easily be seen in royalty because of the baldness that is prominent in the species. It should be noted that hair is possible, but is relatively atypical. In order for one to be considered part of the direct royal line, the Giant must also display a marking known as the Ring. These ridges encompass the upper arm creating complete circlets around that area of the body._

  
_Returning to the top of the head, the next ridge is known as the Horns. The Horns originally grew along the forehead and around the real horns of the Frost Giant. While the Jotunn ridge is still prominent to this day, typically marking a particularly powerful sorcerer, the horns that accompany the pattern do not typically occur in Jotunn any more as evolution has nearly eliminated the gene due to impracticality. For more information on horns, please see page 143._

  
_The rarest combination of Jotunn ridges is found in the form of the Crown of Ymir. This is basically the direct connection between the royal Crown marking and the sorcerer’s Horn marking. The two ridges must flow in and out of each other for it to be manifested, thus making it incredibly rare._

  
_Facial Jotunn ridges are typically personal, marking the Giant as an individual. One marking found on the face, however, has historical significance. Known as Bergelmir’s Tears, the vertical ridges running from the eyes and down the chin symbolize the grandson of Ymir (Bergelmir), a survivor of the Aesir slaughter who rode to safety on a wave of blood. He cried tears so hot that they permanently scalded his skin, causing all of his descendants to bear the marks of that tragedy._

  
_Claws, a sign of a warrior, are small hand and forearm patterns of lines, curves, and chevrons accompanied by dots and whorls. The Mantle, found across the collarbone and upper arms symbolizes a leader and can even flow down the back into Wings. The Wings ridges are patterns that cover the sides and part of the back, where, in some rare cases, it blends into the Mantle. Lastly, and considered by Jotunn society as the most important of the Jotunn ridges, is the Heart. Typically fully manifested at maturity, the patterns are found on the front of the body between the upper chest and the navel. During the rendering of the Heart, Frost Giants will spend about five days lying on a block of ice to numb the pain that is, as many claim, akin to severe frostbite._ Loki scoffed. Frostbite his ass.

  
_Other Jotunn ridges are found throughout the body, creating a unique individual. It should be noted that, these sections of raised skin are sensitive and, when stimulated, the Jotunn ridges can produce an almost orgasmic effect on the Frost Giant._

  
Looking up from the text through the fading light, Loki knew that he would be unable to not look. The stupid lines that covered his body were meant to tell the story of the Frost Giant that bore them, telling all who came across him or her about his strengths, his family, his history. His interest, purely scholarly of course, was piqued. Folding the corner of the page at Chapter 4, titled “The Senses,” and placing the book on the blanket laden cot, he slowly got up. Closing his eyes and taking a long, deep breath, Loki turned to face the dreaded mirror and opened his eyes. 


	11. Chapter 11

They were everywhere, marring every inch of his once beautiful body. It was still startling to see the deeper shade of royal blue - his body still tensed, his brain registering ***FROST GIANT*DEADLY*RUN!** before calming itself over the fact that he was stuck being a thing of nightmares. The eyes, red and unyielding, were something that he avoided. They were unsettling and he wanted no part in them.

  
Instead, he allowed his eyes to trace the patterns that he had just read about. His hands and forearms bore Claws and his upper arms had Rings, not surprising, being Laufey’s rejected offspring. His Mantle swept across his collarbone and shoulders, and upon brief examination, his back where it did, in fact, join Wings. His Heart sat on his diaphragm, branching outward to also join with Wings before looping backdown and disappearing under his loincloth. His legs were covered in the ridges as well, marking his individuality.

  
Taking another deep breath, Loki lifted his eyes to his face. He had once considered himself to be handsome. The blue skin, still ignoring the eyes, had somehow seemed to maintain his facial structure with it’s high, defined cheekbones and high forehead. Now, they were gone, crisscrossed with Bergelmir’s Tears running down his face at a slight backwards angle, lines running back from the corners of his eyes and down his chin and neck. His Horns, mercifully devoid of the ‘real’ ones, reached up under his hairline. A tentative hand followed the lines back further, connecting to his Crown - a Crown of Ymir. Thankful that his hair was still part of his head and that he was not bald like the other Frost Giants, it was still difficult to believe that his face lay hidden behind a mass of lines and circles, as if some child had defaced his portrait in the Royal Gallery in Asgard. Loki snorted, _Who am I kidding!? The portraits with that dashing face and features were long gone. Odin probably had them burned, destroyed, thrown into the Void off the Bifrost. My face is gone._

  
_**GONE**._

  
The word sank in, dragging Loki down into despair on the hard cobbles. Of their own accord, his hands reached up, clawing at his once beautiful face in disgust and lost hope. Sobs wracking his scarred back as hot tears trailed down the lines that disfigured his face. His fingers scrambled for purchase on any one of those loathsome lines as if they weren’t part of his skin. As if he could peel them off with a bit of pressure. That was when he lost his first fingernail, painfully pulled loose, leaving a navy trail of sticky blood on the left side of his face. For what seemed to be the ten-thousandth time, Loki curled into a ball and cried.

  
**Asgard**

  
Frigga reached towards the water in her bowl, rippling it’s surface and eliminating the image of her beloved child, wishing that she could hold him one last time. She was pleased that he had begun to read the books that she had given him and had even seemed to take an interest in his new, true form, only to see the utter sadness and desperation on his face as he clawed at it, crying uncontrollably.

  
Her Loki had always been a handsome boy, attracting the attentions of both female and male suitors, some of which, she knew, found their ways into his bed for a night or two. He was a vain child, pleased that his rare eye color and even rarer hair color stood out, not only among his peers, but also among the members of the court, fueling his ultimate downfall: his pride.

  
No, the figure in the mirror was not who he was, she knew. He could never be that child again. Now he was a man, one who still had a long journey of self-discovery with, sadly, times of self-loathing and contempt. But still, in her mother’s mind and heart, he remained breathtakingly handsome.   
_______________________________

  
**Paradise, Alaska - Midgard Prison**

  
The morning rose and Little One found Loki curled in a tight ball on the floor facing the mirror. Unfazed, the tiny bird happily tweeted and landed on the man’s upturned shoulder, singing a song in his ear. Not wanting to be roused from his storm of self-pity, the god swatted at the bird, earning an undignified squawk, a solid and hard peck on the temple, and a flurry of wings. Sighing Loki retreated into his wallowing. _Who would stay next to something so unbearably hideous anyway?_ he reasoned, instantly trying to quell the guilt he felt for trying to hit Little One. _I truly am a monster._

  
_Crunch_. A crumbling bit of something hit the side of his etched face causing the god to jump, eyes flying open. The breakfast roll was sitting on the ground in front of him, a very puffed up bird was sitting on top glaring at him. Unable to resist the whims of the small creature, Loki worked his way into a seated position as Little One began to peck at the roll.

  
“You are right, of course, my Little One. I am sorry for taking my wrath out on you,” He whispered apologetically. “I am not deserving of a companion such as you.”

  
With that he unseated his guest and began to tear the roll. His finger without the nail protested violently and, in an effort to take the pressure off of the digit, another nail was torn out of his finger, staining a portion of one of the rolls blue. Gingerly picking up the nail, Loki left the clean chunk of roll for Little One, ( _the bird was more deserving, anyhow,_ he reasoned) and examined the piece of his flesh. The nail was sturdy, with no sign of distress nor reason behind it’s abrupt departure from the end of his right pointer finger. Glancing at the root dangling from the bottom before tossing it away, Loki doubted that it would even grow back. Taking a bite from his now blue roll, the god began to slide back down the slippery slope of depression.


	12. Chapter 12

By the end of the week, all of his nails were gone, leaving his fingers sensitive and swollen, with a constant, dull ache present at the end of each finger. Due to the sensitivity, simple tasks started to become difficult for the prisoner. Unable to rip or tear even the roll, Loki left the entire piece for his companion, opting instead for the broth because he could drink it down. He neglected bathing, turning the rusted tap was excruciating, and his hair had begun to fall out of his braid with no means for him to pull it back, so he let the greasy strands fall down his back and over his shoulders in disarray.

  
He spent most of his days reading, grudgingly fascinated by what the pages held and thankful to his mother for her thoughtfulness. Due to the onslaught of distress that the anatomy book had caused a week previous, Loki had abandoned the book in favor of what he had begun to refer to as ‘light reading.’ The book currently occupying his lap was a book on the history of Jotunnheim, it’s people and their conquests, and written from the Jotunn perspective, proved to be rather fascinating. He had never really taken stock that the saying ‘There are two sides to every story’ could be true, but the book was proving him wrong repeatedly.

  
The peoples of his book, while still savage in nature and, in his mind, far less developed, were a proud race. In ancient times, the caste system was what brought their society together, each Jotunn’s ridges informing their bearer of their chosen path at birth. Sometimes the lines lied, causing a Giant to stray and fail to live up to the potential predicted in the patterning. Loki considered his own experience with the Jotunn ridges of the man in the mirror - still refusing to acknowledge that they were the same being. The presence of the rare royal markings was nothing that he did not expect. He knew of his history, as Odin had proclaimed for all, he was _Laufeyson_. Secretly, in the darkest recesses of his mind, he would have been sadder had they not branded themselves on his azure skin. It proved that he truly deserved a throne, in spite of Odin All-Father’s, or even Laufey’s rejection and denial of the notion. It was the discovery of some of the rarer markings that stuck in his mind. Many of the Giants in his books who bore the rare ridges became great people; leaders in societal change, bold rulers, daring and victorious generals, powerful sorcerers. Was the monster in the mirror destined to have a greater fate than this stone box with one high window and a bird companion? _I doubt it_.

  
His current chapter regarded what the author had stated were recent events. The date in the front of the book made the book only a few centuries younger than himself. Knowing that it was not entirely up-to-date, and while not exactly guilty about his attempted genocide and attack on the people of Jotunnheim, he was not keen on reading about it from the perspective of the proud race of monsters.

  
The Jotunn conquest of Midgard was proving to be very different on the page than what he had been taught as a child in his lessons. Instead of a meaningless conquest of Midgard to enslave humanity and bring about a never ending winter, the Jotunn invasion was initially a rescue mission. Farbauti, the life-mate of Laufey, was scouting Midgard for a strayed bilgesnipe when he was captured and tortured at the hands of the seemingly harmless and defenseless mortals. Farbauti’s life-mate, though unknowingly round with child ( _Wait. WHAT!? That is ridiculous_ ), had led a mission to Midgard to save his beloved and was met by the onslaught of the Asgardian vanguard who were summoned to protect the humans. Farbauti was killed by Odin, something Loki already knew, and Laufey disappeared from the field of battle shortly after, only to return from his birthing bed, breasts ( _Again, this is ridiculous. Laufey was very clearly male when I met him. LIES!_ ) bound, to finish what his life-mate had started only to fall at Odin’s feet. The conclusion was known to Loki, but the devastation and the impact of the loss of the Casket was something very new to him. Nothing is said about Laufey’s child, save that it too disappeared, though it was widely believed that it was left to die due to it’s constant reminder of Laufey’s lost life-mate as well as it’s small size and unnatural looks.

  
The event, which sparked the final war between Asgard and Jotunnheim, was taught to him as an unnecessary conquest and slaughter of the people of Midgard, which Odin turned back with Aesir warriors and, ultimately taking two relics from the ruins of Utgard: the Casket of Ancient Winters and a runt infant - him, to prevent any power from returning to the Jotunn people. _Either way, I was still unwanted. A reminder of failure, just like now._ Loki, Frigga and Odin were the only three people who had known about this... _connection,_ the unwanted infant becoming the shunned prince, until Odin’s sentence and the subsequent casting out of his weak and disappointing second son. Trying not to dwell on this new knowledge that, no matter what he did to prove himself, he could never live up to the expectations of his fa- _Odin_ , not because of his own inadequacies, but due to Odin’s own prejudice, Loki shut the book and set it down.

  
It was easy to see that, though this sentence was forced upon him, he was nothing like the monsters who would cast out the weak and ‘unnatural.’ _Though_ , he paused, _maybe I did...Did I not commit genocide against a ‘peaceful’ and already dying race? Did I not murder my..._ (He squeezed his eyes shut against the word) _the creature that would have been my true king, after gaining his trust? Did I not kill and maim thousands on Midgard while under the influence of the One who courts Death? I truly am a...a..._ (Sighing) _**monster.** And now I look the part. I deserve this, I truly do, for no one will love or forgive me in this form. A monster, a monster. Odin was right - I should have died. I should have died..._

  
Tears slowly rolled, hot and constant, from his ruby irises and down his Jotunn ridges. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry. I am a monster. I deserve this punishment, this _ **living death**_ , for _true_ death would be too kind, too kind. I am so sorry,” he murmured into the darkness, book forgotten as he drew up his scarred legs and wrapped his lined arms around them, slowly rocking forward and backward with his mantra.

  
As the tears dried and his apologies stopped flowing, Loki was filled with a new resolve. _Odin wants me to become a new man, and a new man I shall become. One that he and I will both be proud of._


	13. Chapter 13

As the days began to blend together, the books on the shelf acquired dog-eared corners to mark important passages, questions that Loki had not been able to find an answer too, and in a few rare cases, favorite stories and tales. His nails had grown back, though he would no longer classify them as such. Short, sharp, ebony claws grew from his fingertips, causing him to relearn many tasks to avoid spilling things, tearing pages, cloth, and his flesh. He was grateful that the claws were not long, ending about a half inch above his finger tip with a curved and wicked looking point.

  
His toes had began to undergo a similar transformation, losing the clear, flat Aesir nails just a day after his claws reached their full length. Due to the pain of walking, Loki had pulled the drapery off the cot and placed the bundle on the floor next to the food and water nooks. The sun, a less frequent visitor as the nights became cooler and longer, did not bother him as much as it once had, making Loki realize that the seasons were shifting and his one friend would be leaving him for a warmer clime.

  
The thought saddened him. He had not realized how much he had actually learned to love that little bird, the symbol of what he wished he had and knew, without any doubt, that his days would indeed be darker without his breakfast companion.   
___________________________________

  
This morning, bright, but crisp brought Little One with a new surprise for Loki. The bird had, though not as frequently when he had been - _ill_ with the fire of the Jotunn ridges, continued to bring the god gifts. Sometimes it was a flower or a root, though it was mostly rosemary and sage. Loki’s stash of herbs, once rather barren and dejected, was bursting with dried buds, leaves, roots and twigs, all gifts from the charming starling. Today the curious creature had brought a leaf, a sugar maple leaf from the shape, red, orange and gold, the symbol of autumn.

  
“Does this mean that you are leaving, Little One?,” Loki asked, peering at the bird that rested on his knee rapidly consuming the breakfast roll. The starling paused, looking up at Loki, a sorrowful aura surrounding it’s presence before dipping it’s noble head slightly and turning it’s attention back to the roll. Loki’s lips turned up in a sad smile.

  
“Little One, do not be sad for me. I have been utterly blessed to have had such a companion in my loneliness theses last few months. A constant friend through my misery and pain. You have paid me back ten-fold for what little I can give you in return. Go forth, have wonderful adventures with your family and friends. Be warm and happy. I just ask that you not forget me, the sad, blue creature that I am, and return to me in the spring, if you wish and are able.”

  
They finished eating in silence, the bird finishing first and hopping off of the blue-lined knee before chirping once and ruffling it’s feathers for flight. “Wait! Please wait,” Loki implored as he set the plate back into the cubby above him. Slowly, and painfully he stood, swaying unsteadily on his aching feet, holding his toes rigidly off the rocky floor. He hobbled to the far cubby, pulling out a small branch with a single red berry at the tip. Gently, without breaking the berry’s surface with his newest bodily acquisitions, Loki plucked the berry from the stem and placed it in palm, offering it to the tiny bird at his feet.

  
Little One, ever the curious beast, flew up and landed on his thumb, carefully making sure that none of his sharp little talons touched the Jotunn ridges on the digit. It’s head cocked up at the ruby eyes inquisitively.

  
“It’s for you. For your journey. The guarana berry is a powerful energy booster and stamina builder. You will need all of your strength to find a refuge from the cold winter. Please, take it.” The small bird plucked the berry from Loki’s rough, blue palm, swallowing it in one gulp and turning again to gaze at the man holding him. “No,” Loki breathed, “Thank you.”

  
With that, Little One took to the sky, circling the rocky cell, gaining altitude before abruptly diving back down and pecking the central Jotunn ridge on Loki’s brow before exiting through the high window into the grey sky beyond.

  
The god raised his hand in farewell, whispering, “God’s speed you, my Little One” as a strange mixture of emotions flowed through him. His stimulated Jotunn ridge caused a ripple of blissful joy to tingle throughout his sore body, while his throat constricted with tears as his only friend became a tiny dot in the sky and vanished from sight.   
________________________________

  
Later that afternoon, abrupt, lancing pain built in the arches and big toes of Loki’s aching feet. Crawling from the bookshelves, the book of anatomy, abandoned after the ridge incident, clutched in his claws, the god scrambled on his hands and knees to the nest of drapery. Lifting his right foot up to eye level with his hands, Loki looked for anything that could have caused the inexplicable pain. Nothing presented itself, no stones pierced his calloused soles and, though his nail beds ached with the promise of growing claws, there was no change to his foot. Slowly moving to set the body part down, he watched, wide-eyed as his arch and big toe broke.

  
Keening against the excruciating agony, his claws digging into the blue flesh in fright, he rolled backwards, striking his head against the wall behind him, that action not even shifting his focus from his foot. Hot, bitter tears cascaded down his face, burning the icy flesh as he howled, an unnatural sound tearing its way out of his gaping mouth as his left foot also broke.

  
**PAIN! AGONY! TORMENT! _WHEN WILL IT END?!_** Then he blacked out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, we all know that Loki is a bit of a drama queen, so why couldn't his inner monologue be just as ridiculously dramatic?


	14. Chapter 14

**Asgard**

  
Odin glanced at his wife, his one eye sullen and concerned. She had been growing increasingly distant, retreating to her rooms for hours on end, leaving only for court and meals and refusing to let him in to see her. He knew, being the All-Knowing Odin, that she was watching the creature that she still called her son, obsessing with his life as if it were some tragedy put on by a group of players. Her eyes seemed to be permanently reddened, with tears ever-present at the corners, threatening to overflow at any moment. Her continued silence since her outburst months ago bothered him. This was not his fault. He did not cause this. The beast, for that was all that he was, brought it upon himself.

  
Odin sighed. “How goes the wedding planning?” he asked his true son, Thor. The blond God of Thunder looked up from his half-eaten meal and glanced at his betrothed.

  
“I - we,” he smiled, squeezing Jane’s thigh underneath the table, prompting a smile in return, “were hoping to postpone it until L...Loki returned to us.” Jane nodded in response.

  
“All-Father, we would both like that very much,” she whispered hopefully. “I have been consuming Idunn’s apples that grant me long life, so we have time. We can wait. I just want Thor to be happy.” She smiled up at her soon-to-be husband, eyes shining.

  
“No,” Odin replied flatly. “The wedding will happen within the year.” Thor looked puzzled, his broad smile turned into a frown, eyes questioning.

  
Odin continued, well-chosen words falling from his lips, “I am getting old, my son, and you cannot be King of Asgard and All-Father to the Nine without a legal counterpart. Jane, as lovely as she is, must complete the ritual and become your Queen and Consort, her life extended past the seidr of some golden apples. You must do this, not just for me, as a tired old man, but as the rightful heir to the throne. You have responsibilities to uphold. A wedding must be had for a legitimate heir to be produced. I know that another Odin-Sleep is coming and, because of that, you _must_ be ready to take up the mantle of King and Defender of the Nine.

  
“The Trickster will remain where he is for the rest of his days- in solitude where he can harm none but himself. His punishment is far from over. He must continue to pay for the lives he has taken, the honeyed lies that dripped from his tongue, and the spells he has wrought. His hideous form will never grace theses hallowed halls. NEVER! No Frost Giant is welcome here, EVER! You hear me? EVER.”

  
The All-Father finished his speech and an uneasy silence flooded the chamber. A shame-faced Thor turned his attentions back to his plate as did Jane, a shocked expression on her pretty face. Frigga was crying again, her shallow breaths the only sound that filled the gilded hall.  
__________________________________

  
**Paradise, Alaska - Midgard Prison**

  
Loki did not know how long he had been despondent, lying in fetal position on the tangled mess of fabric. It was dark, the window reflecting a moonless night and a sky consumed by stars. It made him think of Asgard, his one-time home with it’s infinite sky filled with swirling solar systems.

  
His feet throbbed painfully, though the feeling of his bones breaking into fragments had subsided. His gaze flipped downward towards the once strong and elegant feet, causing him to retch. Quickly, Loki rolled his head and upper body off of the drapery, so that he could spill the meager contents of his stomach onto the cobbles.

  
The expulsion from his stomach complete, he gathered his courage and shifted his eyes to again regard what lay at the opposite end of the blue expanse that was now his body. The black buds of his toe claws had grown out of the nail beds, but did not yet cover the tips of his toes. Knowing that he still had about a week of growth left, his attention flickered lower. His arches, once naturally rounded, were greatly increased, the bones knitting together into almost cup-like insteps, the half circles curiously high, nearly an inch off the ground at their apex. More startling than the reformed, higher arches, were his big toes. Similarly to his throbbing arches, his big toes had elongated and reformed into a sickle shape, curving in small half circles off the stoney ground, though still the longest of his toes. The pain that was present there was more acute, sharper due to the drastic change.

  
He took a shuddering breath. He would never be able to wear shoes again. An amused chuckle escaped his lips, startling the Trickster as he thought, _Why would I? It’s not like the All-Father let me keep my boots any way!_ His laughter became manic, echoing around his prison and returning to his ears shrilly, the appendages so used to silence. Not for the first time, or the last, Loki wondered if he were becoming insane.


	15. Chapter 15

The following morning, Loki’s stomach woke him instead of Little One’s bright singing. The god felt a sense of loss settle in his gut, missing the dear little bird and it’s sharp intelligence. He reached his arm up into the food nook, finding a winter pear, a bowl of what he could only assume to be broth, and a roll. Pulling the tray down carefully, not wanting to spill the hot liquid onto his icy frame, Loki began to eat his meager breakfast. Pausing at the roll, still untouched by a tiny beak on his tray, Loki lifted the item, tore it in half, and returned the tray along with the other half to the cubby above his head. Meekly chewing the remains of the roll, Loki sighed, looking at his shifting feet, in their constant state of throbbing, before reaching for the book that lay on the ground next to him.

  
Searching the table of contents while running one of his talons along the page numbers, he found “Chapter 16 Feet” and flipped to page 267. He began reading, absorbing information and looking at expertly drawn diagrams.

  
_Known as the horned foot due to the curving structure, the shape of the feet helps the Jotunn find purchase on the icy grounds of their wintery abode. The curve allows the toe claws to grip into the ice like crampons, thus giving the Frost Giant stable footing on the slippery surface. The soles of the feet, as well as the palms of the hands, are generally rough and heavily calloused, again to aid in the gripping of the ice._

  
_The shape of the feet also are used as a means of access to some of the most remote places in Jotunnheim. The naturally high arch allows the Jotunn to climb barren expanses of rock and cliff faces with ease. This skill has saved the race from extinction during invasions as none but the Frost Giants have been able to scale the sheer mountains._

  
_The sickled big toe, another trait of just the Jotunn people, serves as the primary anchor point of the foot. The curve, again, providing leverage on the claw of that toe that makes even the most difficult terrain passable._

  
Loki turned his attention from the page to his feet. _Who knew?_ he pondered, _Ugly, yes, but also useful_. His eyes drifted to the walls of his prison, the rough rocks and the high window. A plan began to form in his mind as a mischievous grin played along his lips.   
_____________________________

  
It took almost another week before he could fully stand and move about his chambers without tripping over the latest addition to his grotesque form. The higher arches and curved toes felt strange, alien additions to his body, and now he could no longer deny that it was his body. Too much had changed in the manner in which he went about his day to day for him to renounce it any longer.

  
Sullen and mopey, but secretly fascinated, Loki waited for the darkness of night to consume the upper window. The days were growing increasingly shorter, the sun, in all it’s power, no longer seemed to have the strength to even raise it’s head above the horizon, leaving the cell bathed in the orange glow of twilight for hours before retreating into darkness. Not that it was dark for Loki, which is why he waited, hoping that the dimness would hide not only his form from unwanted eyes, but also his intentions from the King of Asgard.

  
A couple of hours into the dulled color of night, he rose from the nest, now situated back on the cot, and wandered to the food cubby. He ate his fill of the rich roasted beast and the baked potato, again leaving the roll as he had done since Little One had left, and drank from the still cool spring, surprised that he could still feel the sensation of being cold. He picked up his forgotten leather breeches from under the herb cubby and carefully pulled them over his new feet and claws and onto his legs. He had not worn the pants since his ridges had manifested and the rub of the fabric over the new skin caused him to gasp and moan sensually as each raised blue line was stimulated. He would have left the clothing off, the odds of his being seen were very slim, but he did not want to appear indecent all the same.

  
Slowly, he raised his right foot and placed it in the water cubby, his hands grasping onto the rough outcroppings of rock on the wall, and he began to climb.


	16. Chapter 16

He was surprised by the ease that he had climbing the wall, his hands and feet gripping even the smallest of outcroppings comfortably. The god grinned, enjoying the brief feeling of activity, using his entire body and putting it to a task that involved the use of his muscles, largely ignored during the many months that he had spent incapacitated due to the honing and changing of his body.

  
Almost too soon for his body’s taste, his azure hands reached the window ledge, onyx claws scraping along the rough surface. He pulled his body up, using mostly his arm strength with his legs as a counterbalance, resting them gently on small outcroppings of rock. Hanging by his arms from the ledge, he was able to look out and survey the landscape for the very first time, feeling a slight breeze against his face and rustling his loose hair.

  
Inhaling deeply the rich sent of the soil mixed with fresh air, Loki surveyed the area around his prison. The sky, rich and dark, was lit with a million stars, expanding outward as far as his sharp eyes could see. The moon, nearly full, illuminated the topography. The land around him was relatively barren, sloped and rocky but not impassable by any means. Scrub brush and a couple of low trees inhabited the area, their now dead leaves littering the ground. In the distance, about a mile away, lights, square and blinding, broke the darkness, filling the homes with warmth - a warmth that he realized he would never feel again. The houses, low, double story wooden and stone structures for the most part, made him long for interaction. A knot formed in his stomach as he recalled his meals with Little One, and, further back in his dusty memory, his mother and brother. Consumed by memories, Loki sighed, moving to rest his chin on his forearms. His breath fogged the vambraces, pieces of iron that were almost as much a part of himself as the ruby eyes, the horned feet, and the blue skin.

  
He recalled a particularly wonderful feast from his childhood where he had slipped Thor an enchanted piece of pastry. Upon consuming it, his stomach grew hugely round and his physique fleshed out pudgily. His body became round, so round in fact, that he had rolled right off his chair and bounced down the dais steps laughing! Loki chuckled. He had been punished for that trick, but Thor hadn’t minded. He had asked Loki to enchant him again later and push him down the front steps of the palace.

  
Loki paused his thoughts. It was funny that he didn’t really miss the magic. Of course, the transformation lengths could have been sped up a bit with the use of his seidr or he could have dimmed the pain, violent and abrupt, but he realized that he didn’t miss it because he didn’t need it. _He didn’t need it_. His mind quickly amended that thought. He might not need it, but he definitely wanted it at times like this.

  
He had decided days ago that he could not idly stare at the same four walls any more. He didn’t want to escape, per se. Loki now understood a bit of why the All-Father sentenced him in the manner that he had. His punishment, while brutal at times and unbearably quiet, was fair. It allowed him time to think, to learn, to reflect, to recall, and, at times, to forget. He did however, desperately need to get out of his cell; stretch his legs over something that was not stone, feel the wind against his skin, and lie on his back under the starry expanse of the sky. Then he would return, meek, a willing captive for Odin once more. _If only I could be invisible,_ he sighed. _I’d hate to accidentally meet with a mortal. They’d get quite a fright._

  
Slowly exhaling, Loki reached his hands forward, observing the eery luminescence of the Jotunn ridges in the moonlight, and hefted his torso onto the ledge, his legs and feet dangling over empty air.

  
**Asgard**

  
Odin abruptly sat up straighter, inhaling sharply through his nose. _That fiend will be the death of me_ , he simmered. Looking around at the members of court and realizing that they had noticed his sudden rigidity, Odin slammed the butt of Gungir on the marble floor of the raised dais, sending a resounding and ringing thunk throughout the hall.

  
Regathering his focus, Odin asked the presenter to continue.

  
In her chambers, Frigga screamed.

  
**Paradise, Alaska - Midgard Prison**

  
As Loki pulled himself along the wide window sill towards the land beyond it, he was struck by an unseen power, as strong as a shock wave, and thrown back with such force that his body’s trajectory was only stopped by the back wall. The back of his head slammed against the stone before he fell, face first to the floor of the prison, twenty feet below. 


	17. Chapter 17

Loki mentally assessed his body for damage, cursing Odin who had, no doubt seen him climbing out the window. His face ached, with sharp pain located along the top of his high forehead directly below his hairline, but nothing else appeared to be injured. Carefully he picked himself up, and ran his hands along his limbs to double check his metal assessment. He had a small, shallow scrape on his chest but no lingering damage except his pounding head.

  
Muttering darkly, Loki confessed to the darkness, “Odin All-Father, that was cruel. And unnecessary. _Why_ would I want to escape? I look like...well...I look like _THIS!_ ” He gestured to his blue body, following his clawed hand with his glinting ruby eyes before he tilted his head up towards the high ceiling. “I don’t want anyone. _ANYONE. YES_ , that includes _you_ , All-Father. To see me like this. A thing despised. A creature of nightmares. A fitting form for a man of my crimes. **I accept your sentence, Odin**. I do. In these last months I have learned to live with this body, with my hatred for the race that I am, with my self-loathing for the immeasurable crimes that I have committed, and even with **your** _abhorrence_ of me, the man who was never and will never be your son. I. DO. _NOT_ need your meddling. Leave me _alone_ in my prison where I will make peace with myself, live out the rest of my long days in solitude, and die, buried in this tomb you constructed for me, in the abomination that is now and ever shall be my body.”

  
His piece said, Loki gingerly placed a hand to his brow and staggered to his herb cubby. His eyes roved for a root, gifted to him by Little One, that he had never thought to use for any of his transformations. What good would willow root do against deeply imbedded seidr, any way? It could, however, aid with his present headache. After finding the root, he rinsed it in his spring, popped the vegetation into his mouth and worked his way to the small chamber for a bath.

  
The water, warm as always, ridded his body of dust, cleaned the scrape on his chest, and allowed him to run his claws through his knotted hair. It had grown long, indeed, unbound it reached just below his shoulder blades and tickled his Jotunn ridges incessantly. He braided it back along his Crown lines and noted that his headache had calmed to a dull throb.

  
Sighing, Loki eased himself out of the tub and pulled his clothes back on. The breeches, well-worn and scarred, encased his legs again as a precaution. It was comfortable enough now that there was no need for him to wear only the loincloth. He worked his way over to the cot, wrapped the drapery around him, and fell into a deep sleep.  
__________________________________

  
_There was light everywhere, causing Loki to blink rapidly and raise his hand to shield his eyes from the sudden onslaught. A rich, deep voice entered his consciousness and it sounded familiar. It had filled so many of his memories from as early as he could remember. Thor. Thor was in this shining place._

  
_He squinted his eyes, sensitive to the sunlight after all of his time in partial darkness, and searched for the man he called his brother. He realized that he was standing near a pillar in Thor’s chambers. It, like many of the other items throughout the room, glinted with silver veining, reflecting the light from his wide, open balcony along the back wall. The large bed stood along the wall next to him, the regular red bedding exchanged for pure white. Across from the bed stood a trifold, floor-length mirror and, in front of the mirror, in full battle regalia, stood Thor. He was admiring his reflection in the glassy surface adjusting his cape and shining his buckles and medals of honor. He looked truly regal, every inch of the king that he was destined to be. Loki’s thoughts were interrupted when Thor’s booming voice filled the space and Loki ducked quickly behind the pillar._

  
_“Are you certain that this is alright, Mother? The cape is not crooked?” Emerging from behind the mirror with her hands clasped in front of her, a very proud and teary Frigga regarded her son._

  
_“You look perfect, Thor. Every bit the king your people could ever want and every bit the man that Jane loves,” she reassured him, squeezing his upper arm through the mail._

  
_“Do you have what I asked for?” Thor inquired, turning from the mirror to face the Queen. She held out her hands, revealing something nestled in her palms._

  
_“It is perfect,” the God of Thunder breathed, “I wish that he were here.” Frigga smiled sadly, reaching up to pin whatever was in her palm onto Thor’s chest plate, right over his heart._

  
_“You are all set. Hurry, we don’t want you to be late!” She smiled, teasing the blond man as she turned him towards the door._

  
_After Thor had exited, Frigga let her hands drop to her sides, looking utterly worn down. Then she spoke to the emptiness, “I wish he were here too.”_   
_________________________________________

  
_Loki found himself in the great hall of Asgard, standing on the dais, looking out at the gathered multitude of people. Terrified that his hideous form could be seen, he quickly whirled to leave only to stop himself suddenly. He was standing beside Thor, who was still in his battle armor. On Thor’s right was Odin, who looked rather smug. He was joined on his right by Jane, dressed in Asgardian fashion with her hair plaited around a silvery veil that matched the silver breast plate over her white gown. Behind her stood Frigga, eyes sunken but joyful, Sif, who looked utterly terrifying in her regalia, and a be-speckled mortal whom Loki had never met._

  
_Shifting his gaze to his left, Loki found Fandral, Volstagg, and Hogun, all in their parade-best armor, looking overwhelmed with happiness. He was startled from his observations by the voice that he did not want to hear._

  
_“People of Asgard, Midgard, and honored and distinguished dignitaries and guests. We are gathered here today to join together in sacred matrimony, this man, Thor Odinson, and this woman, Jane Foster.” He was at Thor’s wedding. How, he had no idea, but he was there, invisible to every eye in the room but able to witness what should be the happiest day of his brother’s life._

  
_Silently, he watched the ceremony unfold. Thor’s booming voice reciting the vows overwhelmed Jane’s soft speech of endearment. Both the man and the woman were crying through the candle lighting and the binding of their hands. As the chord was magically absorbed into their skin, Jane briefly glowed, her mortal aura dropping away to be replaced by an Aesir essence. Loki smiled broadly. His brother would not ever want with that woman by his side nor would he have to spend his life alone._

  
_As the couple turned to greet the assembled and walk down the long hall, hand in hand as husband and wife, Loki noticed what Frigga had pinned on Thor’s chest. It was a broach: an emerald wreathed in gold._  
__________________________________________

  
Loki’s eyes opened into darkness. “Thank you for that gift,” he breathed before returning to a dreamless slumber.


	18. Chapter 18

He awoke to a raging headache, ears ringing, and jaw frozen open with spasming muscles. His voice, strangled, choke out of his throat in short, guttural moans. He realized that he had already eaten the one and only willow root the day previous, and opted to try to suppress the infernal pain the way he always had: curling into fetal position and holding his head.   
_________________________________________

  
The day drew on, his headache was becoming unbearable. It was the worst pain he had ever felt, including when he was alight with the Jotunn ridges. It was as if Thor was standing over him, driving an electrically charged Mjolnir through his forehead repeatedly. He rolled off the cot onto the cooler cobbles, begging for mercy. He would not wish this even on his worst enemy, even on his torturer Thanos. No one deserved this pain.  
_____________________________________________

  
A week passed. The pain consumed Loki. He could not hear. He could not see. His groping hands were his only available senses, finding two egg-sized lumps on his forehead, right below his hairline.  
_______________________________________________

  
Another week was met with pain and utter despair. His headache shifted slightly, punching outward instead of inward. His sight returned slowly, painting blurry visions on the mirrored wall. Tentatively, he lowered one of his hands. It was coated in midnight blue blood.  
__________________________________________________

  
Through the next two months, the upward thrusting behind the pain began to concentrate into two distinct, tender locations. He recognized that the pain centralized on top of the lumps his hands had discovered earlier. Any attempt to touch the throbbing areas led to sharp, acute pain and more blood, which dripped freely down his face and onto the floor.   
As the time drew on, he was slowly able to regain his senses as well as sleep. His body, tired from the strange headache, retreated into blissful darkness more often than not.  
__________________________________________________

  
Loki shivered. He felt chilled, though not uncomfortably so. His head, the pain reduced to a dull throb, felt better to say the least. Hesitantly, he opened his eyes and observed the chamber from the floor where he rested, exhausted, weak, and hungry. The prison had a light layer of ice covering the cobbles, branching out from his outstretched right hand and sliding it’s way across most of the floor. Snow drifts filled the corners and lined the front of his body as more blew in from the high window, a whirling vortex of terrifying beauty and cold.

  
Inhaling the cooled air, Loki brushed the snow from the front of his body, frost still lingering on his right fingers and claws. He exhaled slowly, releasing a cloud of vapor into the dim light. His Frost Giant ability to channel ice had begun to manifest itself. _Curious, very curious_ , he thought. _I understood that I had no seidr. Is this separate or something different entirely?_

  
While still lying on his left side on the ice-riddled floor, Loki concentrated on his right fingers and searched for the source of this power. Unlike his stolen seidr, which was a living force of energy that traversed his limbs and concentrated itself in his chest near his heart, he could feel nothing. _Maybe I was wrong_ , he sighed, relief flooding his consciousness. He missed the feeling of the magic within him but did not particularly want to be reminded of the Jotunn’s ability to manipulate the wintery elements and cause the Withering Touch of frostbite.

  
Scooping some of the snow around him, Loki cautiously sat up, his head strangely heavy, the movement jostling his aching temple. He took the snow and squeezed it into a compact, ovular shape. He dipped his chin, his weighty head pulling on the stiff muscles on the back of his neck, and placed the icy snow ‘ball’ to his temple. His fingers brushed something hard. Loki’s eyebrows shot up and he gradually slid his left fingers around the hardness, fleeing the rough surface ridges and smooth lacquer where it protruded from his brow, the base being two inches in length and one and a half inches in width. Unable to find the end of the strange object, he slid his hand upwards around it, catching on the smooth ridges as the diameter tapered and the structure curved towards the back of his head where it ended in a dull point.

  
Ruby eyes wide, he looked up towards the mirror, though he dreaded a confirmation of his latest acquisition. Peering through the frosted glass at him, left hand on top of one and right hand at the base of the other, the figure in the reflection had horns.


	19. Chapter 19

Loki did not know how long he stared, unmoving, barely blinking at the demonic creature in the mirror. The image had grown clearer as the ice receded and, no matter how he wished it, the prominences remained. They were hellish in a way, slate grey like a darker version of his mother’s eyes mixed with Thor’s grandest storms. With hardened ridges along the length, slowly curving and tapering from the crown of his head, the bases nestled in his Horns, perfectly symmetrical in every sense of the word. Each horn angled slightly outward, away from the center of his skull and curved back, the highest point about 7 inches off his skull, the tips about 3 from the back of his head. They reminded Loki of his helm, not the jutting war helm, where the horns arched forward before curving back on themselves, but his ceremonial helm, though not as grand or tall, and, surprisingly, not as burdensome.

  
After his neck muscles adjusted to the extra weight and the ice pressed to the base of his outgrowths had melted, Loki stood dizzily. He did not know how long he had been lying on the floor, though, judging by the accumulated snow and his emaciated abdomen, he guessed a couple of months at the least.

  
Using the wall for support, he walked towards the food and water cubbies, silently grateful for his horned feet as they easily gripped the slick cobbles, unaffected by the sudden cold. The food cubby again held a bowl of broth, steaming in the nippy air. Pressing the bowl to his blue lips, Loki gulped it down, almost instantly feeling full of the heated liquid. He was surprised that the warmth did not burn his tongue or his insides, but instead forged comfortably hot trails down his throat and into his empty and gurgling stomach.

  
Replacing the bowl, his foot kicked something hard in the snow, the force pushing the object against the wall. He bent down, horns whacking against the edge of the cubby, causing him to reel backwards at the sudden flash of pain on the tender skin and bone of his forehead, and cried out in shock at the sudden reminder of the demonic structures that had appeared on his head. He reached an icy palm to his crown and waited for the throbbing to subside. _This is going to take some getting used to_ , he seethed, annoyed at his forgetfulness as well as at the offending horns themselves. He had _never_ met a Frost Giant with a set of horns. Where did these come from? And, almost more importantly, _why him?_ With the exception of his one attempt to leave the cell, he had been a good little abomination. He had even accepted his fate to live in the body of a monster in the silence of this prison. Where the protrusions necessary? Since when did he have to be so... _special?_

  
He had always wanted to be special. Someone revered among the Aesir. A great leader of men. He had always been proud of his looks, the high cheekbones and emerald eyes, and how the rarity of those features made him stand out. Those features were gone; the eyes were replaced by a pair of red orbs that he could not even make eye contact with and his facial structure was lost in the webbing of the Jotunn ridges. His ebony hair remained, though he was not sure how long that would last. Again, he pondered why he was special among the creatures whose ranks he was joining. He had the royal markings, the Crown of Ymir, the Mantle into Wings. He also still had his hair, some semblance of his old handsome physique. His ‘short’ stature, the cast out runt of the litter. Now he had horns. _No one, and I mean NO ONE has horns. Now I’m even more of a freak, a monster among monsters._

  
Loki silenced his inner monologue and reached for the object in the snow. When he found it, half buried in the corner, he brought his frustration down on the offending item. His claws pierced a hard leather covering and he pulled forth the book of anatomy out of the bank. He stared at it, contemplating if he actually wanted to read about his newest body parts. He decided that it would be worth his time and returned to the cot, sitting in the drapes, and pulling the loose ends around his chilled body. Taking a deep breath, he slowly pulled his onyx talons from the covers and opened the book, his memory recalling an earlier passage that he had read what seemed like ages ago. _The Horns originally grew along the forehead and around the real horns of the Frost Giant. While the Jotunn ridge is still prominent to this day, typically marking a particularly powerful sorcerer, the horns that accompany the pattern do not typically occur in Jotunn any more as evolution has nearly eliminated the gene due to impracticality. For more information on horns, please see page 143._

  
_Yes, they are very impractical indeed_ , the god thought morosely rubbing his head as he flipped to page 143.

  
_Horns, originally one of the defining traits of the Jotunn, are rarely found in modern times. Once a dominant gene, the structures are passed hereditarily as a recessive trait with both parents having to be carriers for the gene to present itself. Horns typically begin to grow during the first year of life, with the parents helping the child through what can only be described as excruciating pain using their ice-manipulating seidr. The magic numbs the horn buds, making the child almost unaware of the bone structures as they grow. Horns stop growing once a child has reached their adolescence at about 100 years of age. At that point, the tender base of the horns, always found in the Horns Jotunn ridge on the brow, is solidified and hardened, making the structures difficult, if not nearly impossible to remove._

  
_Seen as a form and means of dominance, the ancient Frost Giants would fight each other for life-mates and territory by knocking their heads together in a manner similar to goats and deer._ (Animalistic, I shouldn’t have expected anything else. How stupid!) _When the Jotunn’s ice magic began to further develop, the new found ability to create more advanced weaponry emerged and the horns were typically forgotten as a weapon once the Giant reached maturity, when the magic was first displayed._

  
 _When the first king of the Jotunn emerged some millennia ago, King Utgard-Loki_ (My name. He had my name), _wishing to prohibit any uncultured retaliation as well as to quell uprisings, ordered that all of his warriors’ horns be removed. The horns were forcibly pulled out of the skulls, leaving indentations that quickly scarred over. This tradition still continues to this day, with horns seen as a threat to those that join the warrior ranks. Due to the removal of the structures over the centuries, the Jotunn adapted, and horns became rarer. Though horns do still manifest themselves among the modern populace, the bearers are typically viewed as outsiders with a less refined nature, causing many parents to have the buds forcibly pulled during the first few years of life._

  
_Horns come in all shapes and variations (See opposite page) thought they all originate on the forehead. It was thought that the horns displayed some of the personality of their host, as each horn differed from others._

  
The page opposite displayed drawings of various horn shapes. Some were massive, at least 8 inches in diameter and towering feet above their owner’s heads, curling and twisting. There was a pair that dropped long the jawline and jutted outward like mandibles. Another pair shot straight up for at least 4 feet. Others branched outward, like oxen horns.

Loki’s eyes rolled upward as if trying to see the structures on his own brow. He gave a small, one-sided smile, and ran his hand along the top of one of his protrusions. He found that he was again thankful that, though the horns were rather extreme, painful, and ugly additions to his face, they were not the horrendous monstrosities staring at him from the page


	20. Chapter 20

**Asgard**

  
Frigga was tired of inaction. Her days were filled with the reminders that her baby was suffering alone while she could only watch, helpless. When she was not scrying him in her bowl, she would still spend most of her waking hours thinking of him and dreamt of him nightly, always crying and in pain.

  
Even the smallest, seemingly unrelated things started her thinking of Loki. The kitchen had made petit fours, his favorite treat. She had noticed a passerby wearing emerald green, his favorite color. The snowdrops were in bloom, his favorite flower. Thor and Jane, who just recently announced that they were expecting, were looking at mint green paint swatches for the nursery. A new baby would certainly brighten everyone’s lives but it made Frigga remember when Odin had brought Loki home, a little miracle wrapped in his bloodied war cloak.

  
A knock sounded on her door, rousing the Queen from her thoughts. “Is this a bad time, All-Mother?” Jane asked, peering her head around the corner.

  
“No, no, my dearest Daughter, I always have time for our lessons,” she replied as cheerfully as she could. Jane Foster, wife of her eldest son Thor, was to be the next Queen of Asgard and All-Mother to the Nine. She was taking lessons with Frigga daily, learning about the races and cultures from around the realms as well as what was to be expected of her and the traditions that she would have to uphold flawlessly. Frigga looked forward to their daily lessons as the lessons that she taught had little to do with Loki. That was, they didn’t have to do with Loki until today.

  
Jane swept into the room, hair and skirts billowing out behind her, and came to embrace Frigga, kissing her gently on each cheek. “What will we be learning about today, my Queen?” she asked, bright-eyed and eager as always.

  
“Well, my child, we have discussed the ways of the Vanir, the difference between the Dark and Light Elves, the elaborate creations of the Dwarves, and the Muspelheim demons. I have taught you about the difference between Helheim, Niffleheim, and Valhalla as well as the Goddess herself, Hela. There is one race that we have yet to discuss: the Jotunn or the Frost Giants of Jotunnheim. That, my dear, is what we will start today”  
________________________________________

  
**Paradise, Alaska - Midgard Prison**

  
Loki’s head had become less tender as the week progress, the horns fortifying themselves at their base and the lacquer hardening over the exposed ridges. He had quickly realized that he would have to modify the way that he slept, the horns poked large holes in the already disagreeable pillow and any pressure applied to the tips or curved sides resulted in a headache over his frontal lobe. On his side was alright, so long as it was on his arm which was thin enough that the side of the horn never touched the pillow or mattress, which, again, would result in a pressure headache and no sleep. After much trial and error, he ultimately ended up shifting the mattress to the floor, nesting the drapery blankets around himself and leaning the back his head against the wooden frame of the cot. The awkward position was not ideal, he consistently woke with an awful neck cramp, but he was not pained by the new appendages and was able to sleep soundly most nights.

  
He had torn down more of the drapery, sadly uncovering more mirror space, out of necessity. He was not cold, per se, but a bit chilled, especially in the evening, the cool air blowing through the window brought snow which did not melt when it contacted his skin or the cobbled walls and floor. Using his sharp claws, Loki fashioned a cloak from the drapery, rough but adequate, with a large enough hood to cover his horns and shade his eyes. He wore it most days, clutching it around his body, wishing that he could feel cold. Then, at least, he would have some semblance of his former life.

  
His days, which lacked the sun’s rays entirely now (not that he was complaining), fell into a routine. Wake, eat (he had moved on to eating solid foods, something he had dearly missed) and leave half the roll for Little One even though the bird was not there, make a poultice for his sore head, read a book of Jotunn history or fiction, climb the walls while avoiding the window for fear of retribution, eat and drink again, bathe, sleep. Repeat. And repeat. And repeat again. He was content but utterly bored. _What a way to spend the rest of my days,_ he mused. 


	21. Chapter 21

_Be careful what you wish for._

  
_That is something that Frigga always told Thor and I. Be careful what you wish for. Why was I stupid enough to wish for some change in my routine? Something to shake me from the funk of utter boredom?_

  
Loki had woken with his jaw aching and his gums throbbing. _So much for blessed relief,_ he sighed. Extricating himself from his nest and gingerly messaging the back of his neck with the pads of his fingers, he walked to the food nook to begin his routine. The pain in his mouth was not unbearable. He doubted that anything would ever be as bad as the growth and development of his now sturdy and immovable horns.

  
The food on the tray was solid for the most part, causing Loki to blanch at the thought of eating anything that required chewing. All fruit had vanished from the plate weeks ago, nothing was in season, and cheese and hard boiled egg required the movement of his aching jaw. Ever resourceful, he broke half of the roll into the tiniest pieces he could and fed them through his lips, one piece at a time, swallowing the with water from his spring, which, surprisingly, flowed a little warm to combat the chill. He tried to do the same with the cheese and the egg, but gave up at about the halfway point of each food item, frustrated.

  
His focus shifted to the herb cubby, where he found the items for the poultice for his horns. He mixed the herbs in the bowl from the water cubby with just a little of the warm water to aid with the application process. When he touched his once sensitive brow and applied the concoction, he noticed that there was no twinge of pain. Ever the masochist, he wrapped his right hand around his right horn, feeling the cool keratin with it’s ring-like ridges beneath his palm and fingers, and yanked. Instead of feeling the horn shift leaving sharp, piercing pain in his temple, Loki’s entire head was whipped to the right. _Yup, those are not going anywhere_ , he thought, releasing his hand, accepting his new body parts, and returning his focus to the herb cubby.

  
He rummaged through his supplies to find a garlic clove and some salt. Again taking the bowl from the water cubby, he spread the salt in the bottom and, holding a clove between his two hands, forcefully rubbed his rough palms together, powdering the garlic. He mixed the salt and garlic, licked his finger and dipped it into the mixture. He applied it along his upper and lower gums, hoping that it would ease some of the throbbing and placed the bowl into his herb cubby to use the rest of the mixture later.

  
Sighing, he thought, _I guess I’d better look at that anatomy book again_. He walked to the book shelves and pulled the nail-punched cover off the shelf. Loki flipped to the table of contents and found a chapter titled ‘Chapter 5 The Mouth and Digestion.’ He turned to page 90, and worked his way over to the tangle of drapery to read.

  
_The Jotunn’s mouth is similar to those of other creatures._ But not similarly enough, apparently, he thought. _The mouth, featuring a tongue of pinkish hue and 32 teeth, is the orifice that helps the Frost Giant to take in nutrients and is connected to the rest of the digestive tract via the throat. The throat is in turn attached to the stomach, small intestine, large intestine/colon, and expels waste through the anus. The nutrients that the Jotunn consumes is stripped during it’s trip along the digestive tract and deposited into the bloodstream._

  
 _The mouth, contrary to popular belief, is relatively warm in comparison to other parts of the body. While the temperature is above the typical 32 degrees Fahrenheit of the rest of the external body, it is not as warm as the inner most organs such as the vagina_ (In female Frost Giants. Why does it not say in **female** Frost Giants?) _or the heart which run at about 99 degrees Fahrenheit. The mouth and upper lungs, due to the exposure to the sub-zero air of Jotunnheim, is typically about 50 degrees Fahrenheit._

  
_The mouth features 32 teeth, 16 in the mandible and 16 in the maxilla. These teeth are categorized into groups similarly to the Aesir, Vanir, and Midgardian. The front four teeth on both the mandible and maxilla are known as the incisors. They are shaped like those of the aforementioned humanoid races. They are used for biting, but not tearing due to their flat surfaces. The incisors are followed by a pair of canines (one on each side both top and bottom) used for biting and tearing, two pairs of premolars (two on each side both top and bottom) also used for biting and tearing, and lastly, three pairs of molars (three on each side both top and bottom) that are used for chewing._

  
_The similarities between races stop there. The Jotunn teeth a typically a bit longer than those of the Aesir, Vanir, and Midgardian, and every tooth, beginning with the canines, has at least one point. The points on the teeth allow the Jotunn to consume it’s regular diet of raw meats, bone marrow, bilgesnipe cheese, and, during the brief warm season, root vegetables._

  
Loki balked and reread the last sentence. “RAW MEAT!” he cried, disgusted. Then he paused, recalling what he had read in his works of history and fiction and realized that none of the stories featured fire except one. Ragnarok, the Apocalypse, was to be wrought upon Jotunnheim in the form of flame, toppling structures and burning the people to ash. The Frost Giants, much to his chagrin and, deeper in his subconscious, his pride, were not stupid. They would not play with fire if they did not have to.

  
_The longest of the points are found on the fang-like top canines, with their tips typically long enough to brush the top of the gum line of the mandible below. Every point after that becomes less dramatic, shortening as the teeth work backwards into the depths of the mouth. It is not uncommon for the molars in particular to have two to three smaller points per tooth instead of one._

  
He ran his tongue over the tops of his teeth, feeling for change that he now knew was coming. “Nothing yet,” he whispered to no one in particular, “but just you wait.”


	22. Chapter 22

**Asgard**

  
It had been nearly two weeks since she had last had the time to scry Loki. Asgard had been bustling about with the joyful news followed by the horrific loss in that short amount of time.

  
Jane, already with child, had a check-up appointment with the midwives and the Aesir healers revealed that it was a boy. Foreign dignitaries flocked to Asgard from all corners of the Nine to pay their respects to the mother of the future All-Father, with only one blatant exception. Odin, stubborn and prejudiced, refused to announce the news to Jotunnheim, claiming that the Giants were vicious and that they knew of hidden pathways between their realm and Asgard. If the Jotunn were to discover the possibility of an heir, they would send assassins. _They despise us, Frigga, and long for our ruin, he had said. If we invite them in, they will view our kindness as weakness and destroy us all._

  
Then, just five days ago, Jane had miscarried the child. Eir and the healers scrambled to save the life the babe but were unsuccessful. They found that, in Jane’s original form (Midgardian), she had endometriosis, a disease of her uterine wall, and would never be able to carry any child of Thor’s full-term. The Nine wept bitterly for the loss of a young life that could have had such potential (again, minus Jotunnheim, who was, again, not informed, and Helheim because Hela welcomes all children as she can never have her own).

  
It brought such a burden on Jane in particular because not only could she not carry her baby boy to term but she could never give Thor his needed heir. She had spent days in the infirmary, crying and begging her husband to leave her to preserve his lineage. Thor, ever present at her bedside, rejected the notion of leaving the woman he loved, regardless of the consequences. Odin, while privately saddened, had begun urging his son to not leave Jane, per se, but to take a concubine to produce an heir. Frigga had remained silent, letting her family rage about her, becoming a comforting presence for Jane and Thor, and a seething roadblock for her husband. After the funeral, held that very morning, Jane and Thor had told Frigga the name of their would-be son: Loki.

  
Which is what drew her back to her bowl, dusty from it’s lack of use. She filled it with her pitcher, watching the crystalline water reflect the afternoon light as it glinted off the gold and bronze sconces of her chamber. She had barred the door, telling her maids to prohibit any from entering until she said so. She did not need to hear any more from Odin and she needed her quiet time with her Loki who would never know about the existence or fate of his namesake.

  
Breathing the words over the still, smooth surface, she concentrated on Loki, his cell, and Paradise, Alaska, allowing the water to pull her there.

  
_The light was dim as it filtered in through the window, there was no sun there or anywhere in the upper reaches of the bleak north until March. Loki did not seem to mind the dark, his new eyes helping him search for outcroppings of rock on the walls above his bookshelves. His hands and fingers, blue with the intricate Jotunn ridges, expertly grabbed even the smallest of surfaces, his sable claws digging into the stone. His feet with their new high arches and curved big toes proved to be the driving force behind his effort to climb, higher and higher into the vaulted ceiling. He was already about fifty feet up, smiling and laughing at the physical effort. His teeth were a bit frightening, long and pointed, but she would not judge him on the necessary features of his species. His hair was braided back with strands flying loose, pulled by the wind whipping into the chamber through the window and funneled upward into the heights. His horns, an appendage she knew he had originally disliked, gave him a regal air about him, truly complimenting the angles and lines of and on his face._ Yes, he was still her handsome boy.

  
 _Suddenly, Loki shifted his weight, and pushed his feet off the wall, launching himself into a backwards somersault over the open air._ Frigga gasped hands rushing to her mouth. A fall from that height would not kill him, but would certainly injure him greatly. _Instead of injuring himself, he landed on a crouched position, smile still plastered on his beautiful face. As he straightened, Frigga noticed his well-defined muscles seemed to stick out more than usual and, as he turned sideways, she could see his ribcage jutting out._

  
Shocked, Frigga yelled, “ODIN! SOMEONE GET ME ODIN! _NOW!_ ” She could hear footsteps hurrying away from her door as her gaze returned to the bowl in front of her.

  
_Loki was drinking water from the waterfall and holding a plate of food in his left hand. He sat against the wall, under the cubby, careful not to lean his head back against the stone to prevent the discomfort it caused his horns, and began picking away at the food. A steaming chicken breast, a baked potato, leeks, and the ever-present roll appeared to be what was for dinner. Loki tore the roll in half and scarfed his half down with the look of a starving child. Mournfully, he regarded the other half for a while before setting it back on the plate - loyal to his Little One till the end. He reached a clawed hand out in front of him, his eyes squinted in concentration, and touched his fingertips to the baked potato. It was quickly encased in frost_ (So his Jotunn seidr has manifested itself at last, Frigga thought). _It was only after the potato was entirely encased in wintery webs that Loki picked it up and bit into it, rapidly chewing as if the food would dissolve before he finished it._

  
 _Potato consumed, her son passed over the leeks_ (Strange, he likes those) _and moved on to the chicken, staring at it quizzically and looked a bit frightened. “Let’s try this again,” a gravelly voice rasped from the throat of her son_ (Is he ill? Is that why he does not eat?). _Loki reached both of his hands towards the chicken and tore the bird in half. The half in his right hand began to frost over and the man returned it to his plate. The other half, hot juices dripping out of it onto the plate and down Loki’s arm, made it’s way slowly into his mouth. Making a tearing motion with his head, he chewed for a few seconds before spitting the meat back out. “Still foul, fowl,” he muttered, the throaty voice again escaping his lips. Returning the offensive bird to his plate, he picked up the frosted piece, sniffing it before tearing a bite out of it as well. This time it did not even last a couple of seconds. The piece was rapidly expectorated out with great force and the chicken was released with disgust. “And to think I thought I’d never have to eat like them,” Loki chuckled half-heartedly, replacing his plate full of food into the cubby. “Maybe my next meal, I’ll be luckier.”_

  
A knock sounded on her door. “My Lady, my Lord is here as you requested,” a meek voice stated through the closed door.

  
“Show him in, please,” Frigga responded barely hiding her growing anger towards the man who had just entered the room.

  
“Frigga, my darling, are you well? Is everything alright?” Odin stood just in front of the door, which closed with a resounding click. “How are you faring with this tragedy of our people?”

  
Frigga turned to him slowly and cordially answered, “As well as can be expected, though I would be much better if a certain someone would let a certain couple mourn the loss of their only child without the mention of a _concubine or heir_.” She smiled coldly. “As for myself, I am personally well, though my heart is troubling me.”

  
Odin hurried towards her. “What is it my darling? Is there anything I can do to help you recover your full health?” His hand reached up to cup her cheek.

  
“Yes,” she replied bluntly, her eyes cold as a January morning, “You can feed Loki.”

  
Odin withdrew his hand as if he had been burned. “That war criminal! Why!” he replied, shocked at her accusation. “He receives two large meals a day from the palace stores. There is nothing wrong with the food he is being sent.”

  
“There is _everything wrong_ with the food he is being sent,” she simmered. “Look.” She gestured towards her bowl.

  
“I do not need to look. I have set up my wards. They will tell me when to look,” he snapped back.

  
“ **LOOK** ,” she insisted jabbing a finger at the water. Odin eyed Frigga warily before mumbling under his breath, “You coddle him too much. He is not the child you raised. He is an atrocity.” Still, he made his way over to Frigga’s bowl and looked down into it’s depths.

  
_Loki had just gotten out of the tub, scraping the ice off of his limbs when they met the air and rapidly pulling his clothes back on. As he pulled up the worn leather breeches, Frigga noticed every vertebrae in Loki’s back was standing up prominently._

  
“You see, All-Father, but you do not see,” she whispered, pity and sorrow filling her voice. “You see only what you wish to see. And what you see is a Jotunn murderer, a cold beast with no heart and no remorse and no need for your attention. You see a monster in a cage and you are waiting for it to get tired of it’s box and challenge you.”

  
She knew she was not wrong. Looking at her husband, she could see that though he could plainly see that Loki was starving, he would not do anything about it because the only good monster was a dead monster.

  
“You wish to know what I see?” she asked quietly.

  
Odin interrupted her, “I see your weakness, woman.” As he turned to leave, Frigga grabbed his arm and drew him back to the bowl.

  
She continued, “I see a Jotunn, a liar and murderer, true, but I also see that he is lost and confused, trying to walk the path towards righteousness, trying to right his wrongs the best he can in his tiny cell. I see a Jotunn, struggling with his own identity. One who clings to everything that he has known, fighting aspects of himself because they are different, because they are monstrous, because he has been taught that they are despicable traits. At first it was easy. He looked like himself just painted a new shade. He avoided sentiment or sympathy, he wallowed in his hideousness. The he made a friend, one who remained with him through his first major trial, one who was a lesser creature but whom he treated as an equal in every sense of the word. He began to see the acceptance of that friend and began to accept himself. He loved and still loves that friend with every fiber of his being. I see a Jotunn, lonely, desperate for contact with anything outside those four walls, desperate for the approval that he knows will never come, that he knows will never be found in a place he can call home. I see a Jotunn, grappling with newness, suffering excruciating pain as his body literally remakes itself. You and I, All-Father, could never imagine that pain and endure it repeatedly, without complaint. He modifies his world to the best of his ability. He is sleeping reclined on the floor, leaning against that measly piece of furniture you deem fit to call a bed, head bowed to his chest because he can no longer sleep in comfort. He is starving, yes _starving_ because his captors do not feed him food that is in his natural diet. And, most of all, I see a Jotunn with an Asgardian heart and soul, endeavoring to live through this imprisonment to become a better man.”

  
Frigga paused, shaking as tears poured down her cheeks and into the scrying bowl, rippling the image of Loki trying to find comfort enough to sleep around his horns. “Please, my King, help him. Please send him aid. Give him hope that he may yet over come this.”

  
Odin regarded Frigga, a fixed expression of blankness on his face. “I cannot and I will not. He is not leaving that place. He is a _monster_ , not your precious _son_.”

  
Frigga took a shuddering inhale before whispering, “Please, my _husband_ , at least feed him properly.”

  
Odin turned to leave, striding purposefully across the room and out of the thick oaken doors.

  
Frigga collapsed in the chair, her head in her hands, her grey eyes still blearily probing the depths of the bowl. “I tried my best, my Son. Please be strong.”

  
An ethereal sound, high and sorrowful, throbbing with such pain and yearning, filled her chamber. She wiped her tears and fixed her gaze on the man that was, and always would be, her son. His eyes, red as blood, were glinting in the soft moonlight as he gazed longingly into the night. His mouth was open, the beautiful music poured out of it gracefully. Loki was singing.


	23. Chapter 23

The months passed, the sun returned to the sky, bringing with it brightness and heat. The food became palatable. Breakfast consisted of cheese, an uncooked egg, and the ever-present roll. Dinner was usually a rare piece of meat, a root vegetable, more cheese, and the roll. Loki still tore the rolls in half, knowing and hoping that the return of the sun meant the return of Little One.

  
The sun brought something else as well, something that Loki had known was coming for a few weeks before it arrived. Something he had hoped would pass him by.  
__________________________________

  
He had finally resolved to read the entirety of the anatomy book. He was tired of surprises, and while nothing new had arrived after his new teeth, new diet, and new voice (Rougher in speech but more beautiful in song), he felt like he was waiting for the other shoe to drop. Page 394 brought him to the beginning of the chapter that he truly never wanted to read:

  
_Chapter 20 Reproduction._

  
The chapter really drew no interest for him. He was hideous by Aesir standards, and a social outcast and runty by Jotunn standards, and no one in their right mind would wish to see any more of his body than necessary, much less want to participate in anything as intimate as intercourse.

  
Besides, he was stuck in his prison on Midgard until his last breath. Alone. He read the chapter anyway.

  
_The Jotunn race is the only race that is classified as intersex. They have one sex with each individual identifying to the gender of their choosing, with many of the population using gender neutral identifying pronouns such as ze and zir. This is possible due to the anatomy of the Jotunn. The Frost Giant is the only being in the Nine Realms to be purposefully born with what can be classified as both sets of fully functional reproductive organs. The organs are dormant until the Jotunn reaches maturity at about 1,000 years of age. At that time, the first egg will be released and ovulation with begin._

  
_With the first egg, comes the first heat. The heat is a period of time that lasts approximately five to ten days during which the Jotunn is primed for conception and has overwhelming urges to mate. It is brought on with bleeding from the cervix, which is rather profuse for a period of about 12 hours. After that time, the Giant will run a consistent fever and ache for sexual activity._

  
_It should be noted that, unlike the Midgardians and Vanir, who have regular ovulation and menstruation cycles that are marked by (bi)monthly bleeding, the Jotunn heat is irregular, varying by each individual and are generally rather infrequent. It does not mean that the Jotunn is not able to conceive outside the heat, the chance is just higher, and in fact, quite likely, during the heat that a child could be produced. Once a child is produced, the heats stop entirely, again, not rendering the Giant infertile, but rather allowing it to focus on other things, such as child rearing._

  
_Lastly, the heat can be suppressed by the consumption of the root from Macagelan plant. This root is only found on Jotunnheim and needs to be harvested during the warm season of June through August. It is a rare find, but it has been effective. One small bite can eliminate the fever and lower the libido, making the Jotunn more comfortable, especially if it is alone without a life-mate._

  
_The Jotunn is also the only race that partners exclusively for love and love only. While viewed as harsh and unkind by outsiders, most Frost Giants are drawn to family life with their one true mate. The mate is found through a deep mutual affection that is first discovered through scent and stimulated through a deep-seated need to be near the other Jotunn. The Frost Giants do not believe in marriage, instead a partnership is consummated through ritualistic marking during the act of intercourse. Once the bite has been made, the two Jotunn are life-mates and will only be parted by death. When one mate dies, the other will live out their days alone, or return themselves to the ice, going into a comatose state that results in eventual death. The one exception to this is the King. If his life-mate dies without leaving an heir, the king may take a consort, but the consort will never achieve the affection that they would have with their own life-mate._

  
“Shit.”  
________________________________________

 

So there he lay, naked in the empty tub, his long, blue legs thrown over the sides, bleeding his guts out. It was very strange to still register the midnight blue as his blood. He was so used to the natural violent red hue that the lack of it almost calmed him. Nothing could be that bad because it’s not scarlet.

  
He had been woken that morning with the ever present crick in his neck, the sun streaming across his chest, and a truly strange sensation, like a dull knife was sawing away at his organs and pelvis. Immediately, he knew, glad that he had read the book in advance. He ran to the small room, pulling off his trousers and loincloth and hopped into the tub. The onslaught began shortly after.

  
As he sat in the dark, he cursed himself for not bringing a book. He could have used something, anything to amuse himself. Instead, he braided his hair, again pleased that it was still present in his life, and began tracing his Jotunn lines. He had seen them many times in the months that followed their fiery branding but he had never explored them. His fingertips and claws lightly flitted over the patterns, starting in his Crown and flowing down his body, singing as he went. He did not particularly want to see his nether region, but his fingers found their way there all the same, following the lines down his body, now smooth and hairless. The pubic hair had vanished months ago, falling out in clumps (as did all the hair on is body except his eyebrows and head of hair), so it did not surprise him to not find it there. He was however, surprised to find that his sack was missing. It had gradually withdrawn from the surface and now resided under his skin, protected from his frigid exterior. Pressing gently, he could feel it’s odd roundness buried near the hilt of his length. Behind where his testicles had been located, Loki refused to touch, instead skimming up his legs and over his feet. He knew what the female organs looked like and he would not accept that they were now part of his body.

  
As the bleeding subsided, he began to feel warm. It was really strange because he had not felt true heat in such a long time. It was a different warmth from the birth of the Jotunn ridges, concentrating in his lower abdomen and spreading throughout his body from his clawed toes to the top of his horned head. He decided to try to combat the fever and subsequent libido with the tub water, hoping the freezing conditions would actually feel cold and kill all want of sex. He turned the tap and let it wash the remains of the blood off his legs and down the drain before plugging it and lying back. He stroked one of his horns absently, a habit that he had picked up some time ago and waited.

  
The water, while not feeling freezing, actually felt cool to his skin, refreshingly so, and he drifted off to sleep.

  
___________________________________

  
He awoke, hot. HOT. **SO HOT. _BURNING. BURNING_**. He began to writhe, flipping himself over and over, rubbing his body all over the sides and bottom of the tub. He refused to touch himself there and he would stand by that, but it was getting harder to produce a lucid thought as he rutted the tub, thankful for the friction.  
_____________________________________

  
**Asgard**

  
Frigga was done not interfering. She knew that she was not only disobey a direct order from her King, she was also committing treason. She did not care. She just needed to help Loki.  
_______________________________________

  
**Paradise, Alaska - Midgard Prison**

  
The sound of the Bifrost filled the main chamber, depositing a hooded figure into the room. It was there on a mission, searching for a suffering man. He would not be hard to find. There was loud, guttural moaning and splashing was resonating from the smaller chamber. Turning sharply, the figure pulled a bulbous red root from it’s pouch and hurried into the bathing room.

  
It was very dark in there, causing the figure to lower it’s hood to let as much of the light from the main chamber into it’s grey eyes. Running a hand along the wall, following the jumbled nonsense words and moans that emitted from her son’s throat in his new, huskier voice, Frigga soon found the tub and was rewarded with a splash that drenched her entire front.

  
“My son,” she said, desperately searching for his hand in the darkness. “Loki, my darling, where are you?”

  
The moaning continued, but a clawed hand grabbed her arm, squeezing it violently and dug it’s sharp claws into her flesh. Biting back a gasp of pain, Frigga tapped the hand, already beginning to feel the bite of frost, but thankfully not the Withering Touch. “Loki, my son, please let go. I am here to help you.”

  
He did not respond, instead he continued to have a vice-like grip on her arm and moan into the darkness. Thankfully, her eyes had begun to adjust to the dark and could see his head, dripping and leaning over the back of the tub, eyes glazed over and rolled upwards, mouth hanging open. Carefully, she reached her right arm over his body, the peculiar tuber hanging from her fingers. She dropped it in his open mouth, avoiding his wicked teeth, and used her hand to clamp his jaw shut, hearing his teeth cut through the tough root as if it were butter. The silence that followed was astounding. Loki’s grip on her arm began to lessen, his claws withdrawing from her cold, bleeding flesh.

  
Hurriedly, knowing that Odin would find her at any moment, Frigga delivered her instructions to the Jotunn that was her baby. “Listen carefully. That root from the Macagelan plant will help calm your symptoms. There is enough to last you three more heats and I pray that you will have no more than that. I will leave the rest of it in a pouch in your herb nook. Please remember, Loki, that no matter what you eat, how you act, or what you look like, I will always love you.”

  
She leaned down and kissed his damp brow, stimulating his Jotunn ridges, and quickly left, retreating to first the herb cubby and then the Bifrost site and called to Heimdall.  
_________________________________________

  
Loki slowly found his way out of his libido-induced stupor, hearing the beautiful and kind voice, taking in her instructions, and watching her figure vanish. “Mother?” he croaked, his left arm reaching towards the door, claws still dripping red blood.  
____________________________________________

  
**Asgard**

  
“Guards, arrest her.” Odin greeted Frigga with two guards and a pair of magic suppressing handcuffs. Head held high, the Queen of Asgard was escorted to her cell.


	24. Chapter 24

Loki lay in the tub a few moments longer, allowing him to return to himself. He still felt warm, the water was still cool, but he was no longer lost. He stared at his left hand, his claws and fingertips were coated in red blood, Aesir blood.

  
He had hurt her. In a fit of passion, he had reached out for comfort and harmed the only person that loved him. The only person that mattered. Instead of leaving him in his agony for hurting her, she had helped him, leaving supplies, and kissing his brow. Why did she have to be so good? Why did he have to be such a monster? What did he ever do to deserve the love of Frigga?

  
He brought his hand into the tub and tenderly held it over his heart. “Thank you, Mother. I love you too and I am so sorry.”  
_______________________________________

  
**Asgard**

  
“Please tell me again why Mother is confined to her rooms in magic suppressing manacles? I am not sure that I understand your reasoning clearly.” Thor was trying very hard to keep his voice even and level. Since he was to be crowned within the month, he was trying to work on his stormy temper. He and Jane had been spending a lot of time on Midgard recently, partially to help Jane cope with the loss of their child with her friends and family, but mostly because the Avengers had been constantly fighting a purple Titan named Thanos who was older than the world itself. Thor, knowing Thanos’ history with Loki, could see why Loki obeyed him. He had telepathy and frequently played with his, and other Avenger’s minds. That and he was incredibly strong, making Banner’s Hulk look like a rag doll.

  
Odin focused his one eye on Thor and repeated what he had just stated but in a more flat tone, as if he were speaking to a child. Thor hated when people did that. He was far from a child. “Frigga, your mother, has spent most of the last year scrying the war criminal Loki, whom she believes has changed in more than appearance. She insisted on acting on his behalf yesterday, sneaking into Jotunnheim by paths unseen, stealing many rare roots, used the Bifrost to transport herself into the prisoner’s cell, and left the roots with the prisoner. Not only did she willingly aid a criminal against my decree, but she also risked our already shaky peace with the Frost Giants. If she had been caught stealing those valuable plants, she would have been killed, her title would have been worth nothing. They are a blood-thirsty race, every last one, and they would have reveled in the opportunity to meet us in war.”

  
Thor tilted his head as it rested in his cupped hand, “But she didn’t get caught and the Frost Giants don’t know that she took whatever it is that she took. Yes, she helped Loki, but really Father, what can you expect? He must have desperately needed the roots or she wouldn’t have helped him. She’s his Mother, I’m his Brother. Are you truly heartless to not be his Father?”

  
Thor intensely gazed at the King, looking for any sign of conflict or emotion. Odin, defiantly stared back as his heir. “No. He is not my son. He never was and he never will be. He has been and always shall be a monster and the sooner you and your Mother learn that, the better. His punishment better served if you forget about him.”

  
“That is exactly why I can’t. If I cannot hope that Loki will prevail and break the cursed sentence that you placed on him, then why would he continue to fight for his freedom?”

  
With his piece said, Thor bowed to the King, turned on his heel and strode off purposefully through the hall.  
______________________________________

  
“Your majesty, to what do I owe the pleasure?” Heimdall inquired, his golden gaze focused off the Bifrost and into the distance.

  
“How does my brother fare?” Thor asked, also looking out into the trillions of stars.

  
“He fares much better than he was just this morning. I can sense a great change coming into his life that will alter his path either for better or for worse. If he passes his next test, there will be hope for him yet.”

  
“Wonderful. Thank you Heimdall. Now, could you please send me to Jotunnheim. I have some business with Helblindi.”

  
“Of course, your majesty, though please know that the King will be informed that you have gone to the forbidden realm.”

  
“I would expect nothing less,” Thor smirked.

  
________________________________________

  
**Paradise, Alaska - Midgard Prison**

  
“You’ve returned to me, Little One!” Loki could not conceal the blissful joy he felt at the sound of the little bird’s chirping. He had woken in the early morning light to a familiar tune playing in his ear. The small starling had perched itself on his left horn, quite contentedly, and began to sing him awake.

  
“I see that you do not mind the changes that I have undergone. In fact, you have made yourself quite comfortable,” he chuckled, so happy to have the little bird back. Carefully, so as to not unseat his guest, Loki stood and messaged the back of his neck, stiff from the awkward position that he had slept in.

  
He made his way to the food cubby, drawing out a plate with cheese, a raw egg, and the ever-important roll. He tore the roll in half, leaving the larger piece on his plate for the bird, and stuffed the other half in his mouth. He was still relatively thin from his multiple ordeals and weeks of missed meals. His also scarfed down the egg, poking a small hole in the shell and sucking the slimy whites out before opening the egg fully to swallow the yolk as if it were an oyster. He saved his cheese for last. It had quickly become his favorite food, the sharp bite was such a contrast from the protein-based food that he consumed with gusto. It was one of the few foods whose flavor had only gotten better when his taste buds changed.

  
Little One, surprised by his rapid eating, looked up from its own breakfast and cocked its head. “I know, Little One, my manners are deplorable, but do you expect more from a monster?”

  
The starling peck one of his fingers in reply before returning it’s attention to the roll. Chuckling at the ‘punishment’ given by the intelligent creature, Loki said, “I promise I will do better.”

  
He observed the tiny bird as it ate its fill. The beast had filled out, its feathers were sleek and glossy, and it had doubled its size. Little One was now an adult. He had missed so much in the bird’s life, and that made him sad. It was times like now that he wished he could leave this cell, his home of a year, and see more than these four walls. He caught a glimpse of his ‘fair’ form in the mirror and quickly rescinded that wish. He would not, could not travel, because, unlike Little One with it’s beautiful, fine, avian form, he was a demonic humanoid, the thing that nightmares are made of.   
_________________________________

  
**Utgard, Jotunnheim**

  
“King Helblindi,” Thor bowed to the towering monarch. “I have come to speak with you on the behalf of Asgard.”

  
There was a rumble of general distrust among the gathered Jotunn court. The king, a large, formidably blue and lined Frost Giant, had eyes that could pierce your soul. His ruby orbs dug into the Asgardian prince, trying to gather the motives behind this visit. His people were starving, his city, a ruin. He had no life-mate and thus he had no heir. There was literally nothing Asgard could take from him that had not already been taken.

  
Straightening up to his full 12 foot tall height, Helblindi spoke with a commanding gravelly voice, “Then speak, Asgardian. I will hear you.”

  
Thor, a bit unnerved to be standing among so many Frost Giants, his memory harkening back to their last meeting as well as all of the tales he had been told about the wars, made him want to set his hand on Mjölnir as she hung from his belt. Then he remembered Loki, and while he had never seen his Jotunn form, he knew the man in contained. He raised his head, trying to appear confident. “I come to extend a formal invitation to you, King Helblindi, as well as three other Jotunn dignitaries to attend my coronation at the end of this month on July 31. It would bring me great happiness to have a contingent present. I would reforge our relations of millennia gone by where our peoples traded freely, exchanged and engaged in each other’s cultures, and found partners among the other race. I do not require an answer today, I just ask that you consider it and send a message via Heimdall. Thank you, Your Excellency, for your time and hospitality.”

  
Thor turned and walked down the Frost Giant lined isle. “Wait.” The command rang out through the crowd. Thor turned back to face the throne of the King.

  
Helblindi was standing now, looking rather puzzled. “Why do you extend this invitation? Do you not think us monstrous and repulsive? A race that is better dead than alive?”

  
Thor chose his words wisely before beginning. “I will not lie and tell you that I have always loved the Jotunn race. I have not. In fact, I led an expedition here three years ago to eradicate your proud people in my rash anger. I was saved from my stupidity by the All-Father and a new deal was struck. It was only after, in fact rather recently, that I learned that I have known a Frost Giant my entire life and he is none of those things. I could not live without him. I aim to bring about a peace that will last through the ages, not just for me, not just for the Jotunn that I know, or for you or the people assembled here, I do it for my children and my children’s children and their children’s children’s children. It can be done, and I swear to you that I will fight prejudice and strive to make this world better for all of us.”

  
Helblindi pondered Thor’s face, head cocked slightly to the right. “It is Loki Laufeyson of which you speak?”

  
“It is.”

  
Helblindi nodded. “How fares my brother?”

  
“Our brother has been better, but he has overcome some great changes and challenges this last year and I have hope for his future.”

  
The king nodded, smiling slightly. “We will come. Expect us on July 31.”


	25. Chapter 25

**Asgard**

  
“Please, All-Father, I beg of you. Release my cuffs for a day. We do not want the Nine to know of my imprisonment, do we?” Frigga was trying to be rational. Her cuffs, transformed into vambraces similar to the pair that Loki wore, were seen poking out from under her sleeves. “THINK of how it will look to them. A Queen, subservient to her consort, carrying no real power...”

  
Odin stopped her with a raised hand. “I know why you ask this of me and it is not for the reasons that you are saying. You wish to bring Loki here in a manner similar to how he arrived at the wedding.” Frigga opened her mouth to protest. “NO! I know he was there! You cannot deny it. He is unworthy to grace these halls. UNWORTHY! He will NOT be coming and those cuffs will stay exactly where they are!”

  
Odin spun on his heel and practically flew from the room. He sighed, raising a hand to his brow. If Frigga kept interfering with that - that creature, he would never learn.

  
**Paradise, Alaska - Midgard Prison**

  
The thunder rolled above his cell like a drum corps, incessant and punctuated by brilliant bolts of lightning. Against his better judgement, Loki had climbed to the window and was staring out into the vast expanse, enjoying the show.

  
Little One had left early that morning, sensing the coming storm and wishing to return to the shelter of it’s nest, where ever that was. The small starling had really brought so much more life back into Loki. The god spent his mornings with the bird, enjoying it’s witty antics and delightful songs, and then found himself trying to occupy his mind for the afternoons, waiting for the following morning when the intelligent creature would return.

  
He found himself, as he watched the impressive storm, filled with longing for another person. He had always liked the rain and the coolness that accompanied it. He was beginning to build a tolerance to the heat of the sun due to the prolonged exposure and the use of his Jotunn seidr. He would concentrate his power, which originated in the soles of his tough feet, and mentally spread it along his entire body, causing a thin layer of frost to play across his skin. Unfortunately, he was still too weak and undisciplined to hold the frost for long, the power of his vambraces pulling his natural seidr into them greedily. He spent most of his afternoons, the times of the fiercest sunlight, crouched in the corner or laying in the tub, cooling his body.

  
But not today. Today he looked at the ominous thunderheads and the torrential downpour as a gift from his brother. Why Thor deemed him worthy of it, Loki could only guess. He had tried, and subsequently failed so many times to defeat the God of Thunder, always trying to find a way out from behind the larger man’s enormous shadow. He had not truly wished Thor dead, he now realized, though some of his rash actions could certainly have led to that conclusion, he had fought with his brother for some recognition from Odin. _I was so stupid_ , he chided himself. _I was striving to be the favorite son instead of realizing that I was the favorite companion, the true brother._

  
The thunder grew louder, whipping the wind and rain into a frenzy over the low trees, branchy scrub brush, and long grass of the rocky landscape. The inhabitants of the town were no where to be found, probably seeking the refuge of their cozy homes in the arms of those they loved.

  
Loki, rested his chin on his arms wondering why Thor had felt a display of this magnitude and grandeur was necessary. It was obvious that he was not nearby, there was no sound of the Bifrost or the tell-tale swirl of storm that engulfed the God of Thunder when he was present in the midst of the tempest. No, Thor had to be causing this ruckus for a reason.

  
“What are you trying to tell me, Brother?” Loki whispered through the wind.   
_____________________________________

  
 **Asgard**  
“The people are ready for you, sire,” the small herald stood at the King’s door, head bowed in respect.

  
“And I, for them,” came the reply, steady and even. The King made his way across the chamber, offered his arm to his beautiful Queen, and stepped out of the door and onto the raised platform.

  
Cheers, whistles and applause filled the cavernous golden hall. Thor raised his free hand, calling for silence. “People of the Nine Realms, welcome! It is with great honor and enormous pleasure that you are here today to celebrate with me and my Queen, Jane Foster. Now, let the festivities begin!”

  
He raised Mjolnir, summoning lighting in the hall, signaling the beginning of the week-long coronation feast. He released the hammer and Jane’s arm to sit on the throne to the right of Odin, still acting All-Father of the Nine. His ceremony, unlike the one three years previous, had gone without a hitch. His only regret was that his brother was not there to celebrate the momentous occasion with him. Instead, he had decided to bring the party to Loki, giving him one of his greatest storms he could muster away from the realm of Midgard.

  
The assembled parties represented all of the Nine realms. Hogun and his Vanir people had gifted him with enough grain to last twenty years as well as a pledge for their continued loyalty to their liege lord.

  
The Light Elves gifted him with beautiful baskets of fruit and fleeces from their golden sheep that reflected the light of their summery home. The Dark Elves were not present, as the last of their race had been obliterated in a brief skirmish on Midgard the previous winter. Their ex-slaves, who called themselves the Elves, were present, and brought gifts of dust laced with a powerful seidr that could break any curse. They too pledged their loyalty to Asgard, their savior from the realm of eternal darkness.   
The Dwarves brought hand-forged gifts of the most magnificent beauty. Goblets, pitchers, plates, axes, spears, and a second, smaller hammer (“For the heir to the one who wields Mjolnir”) encrusted with intricately carved runes, rare metals, and precious gemstones.

  
Hela was present, her mystical helm in place to hide her decaying form. She was utterly beautiful and terrifying. She did not bring a gift, instead telling Thor and Jane of the gift they had given her, their little Loki, who had brought so much joy to her life of death. She promised that she would aid Thor with the presence of her Valkyrie as his guard in times of conflict.

  
The Midgardians consisted of the Avengers, Jane’s friend Darcy, and Erik Selvig. They did not bring a gift as many of them were too busy combatting the terrible power of Thanos, but they did, however, let Thor know that he had leave of his Avenger duties until his transition into the kingship was complete. Thor was positive that he would not take them up on that offer, as his own personal vendetta against the Titan was far from finished.

  
Lastly, the Jotunn and their king, Helblindi, arrived at the foot of Thor’s table. He saw Odin flinch out of the corner of his eye, but he greeted the honored guests happily, hoping to rebuild a sense of mutual friendship regardless of Odin’s own prejudices.

  
“Welcome, Helblindi - King and honored guests of Jotunnheim,” Thor smiled. “I am so pleased that you have joined us. Has everything been to your liking?” He had consulted with Frigga about the accommodations that the Frost Giants would need in order to be comfortable. They were placed in rooms that received no direct sunlight with enchantments placed on them to keep them cool. Their beds were longer, to accommodate their lanky frames. Their food had been primarily meat-based, uncooked, of course. He did not want their new relationship to start off on the wrong foot.

  
“Everything is more than satisfactory, Thor, King of Asgard,” Helblindi replied, inclining his head to the new monarch. “I am impressed with your awareness of our particular needs. I bring to you the gift of lasting friendship and continued communication between our peoples. I know that it is not substantial, but, we are a poor race and can offer nothing else.”

  
“I gratefully accept this gift, Helblindi-King. It is more precious than you could know. I, in turn give you a promise of a gift that will further this friendship.” Helblindi and the gathered Jotunn blinked in surprise. It was far from traditional for the King to bestow gifts at his coronation.

  
Thor continued, “As you know, our mutual brother, Loki Laufeyson, is currently in exile, living out his sentence for the crimes against your people and those of Midgard. I have faith that he will find a way to fulfill that sentence and return to us here in Asgard. After he has returned, as a symbol of our unbreakable friendship and as a sign of good faith, I will release to your care and the care of your children and their heirs, the Casket of Ancient Winters to be used as a tool for good and to rebuild your once mighty kingdom. I do warn you: the Casket can only be controlled by one of royal lineage and Loki, whether he is recognized or not, is Laufeyson. He will remain here on Asgard, our authority on your people and as a fail-safe should the Casket be misused.”

  
Helblindi stood silently for a moment, unbelieving. This gift was one that would certainly bind their races together for eternity. It would allow him to begin to rebuild his once thriving realm and, more importantly, to provide for his people. He could see no downside to this gift, for he was tired of fighting the Aesir. Prejudice would still exist in both realms, and he realistically knew that it would never fully disappear, but it could be squashed down so that the races could mutually support each other. Had it not worked for Vanaheim, Svartalfheim, and Alfheim? It could certainly work for his dying realm. “I wholeheartedly accept your generous offer, Thor-King. I embrace you and your people as brothers, connected through our mutual brother, Loki Laufeyson, and the hope of his success. I look forward to more discussions of how we can help and learn from each other in the future.”

  
With that, Helblindi and his entourage bowed, leaving Thor and his family alone on the raised platform.

  
Odin, staring straight ahead, broke the silence. “You think that wise, oh King of Asgard, giving such power to a Frost Giant? All of it weighing on a mentally damaged mass murdering monster? I believe that you will come to regret your actions.”

  
“I am certain that it is you who will feel regret, Father. Loki, in all his imperfections, will be the link between our races, and I have faith in his full recovery of his humanity and his sense of self-worth.” _Do you hear that, Brother? I have faith that you will succeed._


	26. Chapter 26

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note: Minor character death
> 
> I'm sorry.

**Three Years Later**

  
That summer, Little One returned late from it’s wintery retreat. The bird, now greying in it’s once fine feathers, literally fell into Loki’s outstretched palms, it’s heart pounding brutally against it’s tiny ribcage, it’s breaths shallow. Loki knew that the starling’s time was near.

  
“Oh, my darling Little One, you should not have exerted yourself so,” he breathed, stroking the tiny body with one of his clawed fingers. “You did not need to return to me. You should be with the ones you love and hold dear, not some monster in a dark hole in the ground.”

  
The little creature tilted it’s head laboriously, and chirped softly. “You chose me. I know. You are too good for this world, and mine will be much darker without you.”

  
Tears had begun to well up in his scarlet eyes, causing them to glisten in the sunlight. He cradled the tiny body to his scarred chest right near his heart and prayed for a way to ease the passing of his only friend. He tried to tap into his seidr, whispering spells to relieve pain and bring about a peaceful sleep. Nothing happened. His hands were unable to produce what had once been so easy.

  
His tears were flowing freely down his Bergelmir’s Tears, carving his cheeks with warm rivulets. “I can’t do anything for you, Little One. I can’t. My seidr is gone,” he whispered through the lump in his throat. “What can I do?”

  
The bird’s heart continued to pound, it’s lungs pumping shallow breaths. It’s eyes were glassy and it’s beak gaped as it’s head rested against Loki’s cool palm. “Do you remember how we met, Little One? You had foolishly gotten tangled in some fishing line. Your family was not happy when I helped you,” he shook his head at the memory. “Or when you brought me gifts while I was ill and you would sing to me with the sweetest voice? It helped me so much, to hear that music...”

  
Loki paused before saying, “And now it is my turn to sing you to sleep, Little One.” He took a deep breath and sang, his Jotunn voice undulating in sweet high notes and warm low notes. He sang his sadness that was threatening to overwhelm him. He relayed his joy that the little creature had brought him. He poured out his gratitude for his tiny friend. He conveyed his prayer that the bird would find its way to Valhalla for it’s acts of selfless kindness to a monster who was so undeserving.

  
As the day lengthened, Little One’s breathing and heart rate slowed and it closed it’s intelligent eyes one final time. Still, Loki kept singing, speeding his companion into it’s next life until the starling breathed it’s last. It was then, and only then that Loki stopped, cradling the now empty shell of his true friend to his heart, and cried in the dying light of the sun.  
__________________________________

  
He stayed that way until the sun rose the following morning, bringing with it a promise of new life, but a large, gaping hole in Loki’s heart. His tears had long run out and the bird’s body had turned icy with it’s lack of life.

  
Slowly, he rose and took the bird to the food nook. Removing all of the food but the roll, Loki placed Little One on the plate beside their shared meal. “Gods speed you, my dear Little One.”  
_____________________________________

  
**Asgard**

  
Frigga, her powers long restored, got up from her scrying bowl. She rushed to the kitchens, a figure wrapped in blue, her silks billowing out behind her.

  
When she reached the door, she collected her self and smoothed her skirt. Entering, she commanded, “Bring me the prisoner’s plate please.”

  
“You do not want it, Milady,” said the head cook. “There is an unsavory sight upon it.”

  
“I know about the bird. In fact, that it what I want. Please bring it to me,” she stated calmly, praying that they had not yet discarded it. The head cook hurried off into the bustle of the kitchen. She returned five minutes later carrying an object wrapped in cheesecloth.

  
“Here it is, Milady, just as you asked. I had to rescue it from the rubbish heap, but here it is,” the cook said, out of breath.

 

Gently taking the cook’s offering, Frigga quietly said, “Thank you for doing this for me. How can I repay your kindness?”

  
“Twas nothing, Milady. My pleasure to see you happy.” With that, the cook bowed and headed back into the bustle of the kitchens.

  
Frigga, clutching the cheesecloth to her breast, slowly returned to her chambers. The bundle that she held in her hands was the only light in her son’s world. He had made so much progress, thanks to that little starling. It deserved so much better than defilement in the trash heap. No, she would grant this bird new life in a new form where it would change her son for good.


	27. Chapter 27

**Eight Months Later**

  
Loki’s days had grown considerably darker since Little One’s death. Another heat had come and gone and Loki had been truly grateful for the root that saved him from his physical suffering. However, it did nothing to alleviate his mental anguish. He now had nothing and no one to talk to, nothing to keep him going. He spent days on end sitting and staring at his hideous reflection, telling himself that this was it. It was the best that his life was ever going to be. His manta became: _I am a monster, unworthy of love, unworthy of companionship. Unworthy. Unworthy. Unworthy._

  
Eventually, he would rouse himself with thoughts about the tiny starling who he knew would not agree with his thoughts, and force himself to fall back into his winter routine: Wake. Eat. Read. Climb. Eat. Bathe. Sleep. Repeat. The routine was comforting, but he found no joy in it. His fiery soul was dim.   
____________________________________

  
The sound of crying and the blockage of the sunlight roused Loki from his stupor. He had been rereading a well-worn book of Jotunn mythology, thankful for the escape from his solitude. He looked up, alarmed at the hunched figure on his window ledge. It was a young, Midgardian woman, no older than twenty, her arms wrapped around her legs and her head resting on her knees, a familiar position of distress that Loki knew well. Her body, small and dark-haired, with coffee colored skin, shook with the force of her sobbing.

  
Slowly, so as not to alert her to his presence, Loki picked up his discarded cloak and retreated to the darkest corner of the main chamber, moving a silently as a shadow. Throwing the cloak around him, pulling his hood carefully over his horns and wrapping the cloth tightly to avoid her seeing any more of his body than was necessary, he quietly asked, “Are you alright?”

  
The woman’s sobs abruptly stopped and her head shot up. “Who’s there?”

  
Contemplating what to say, Loki answered, “Someone who would like to help you. A friend in you trying time.”

  
The woman scanned the chamber below her. “Where are you?”

  
Deciding that honesty was the best policy, he replied, “In the far right corner, wreathed in shadow so that I do not give you a fright.”

  
The woman sniffled, “Why would you frighten me?”

  
“Because I am a monstrous man, a truly hideous sight to behold and you are already so distressed. Please, tell me what is wrong so I can try to help you.” He waited, seeing her indecision at his confession. “ I promise not to harm you. I only wish to help as best I can.”

  
The woman shifted, turning to face Loki, her legs dangling over the edge of the window ledge and into the dim chamber. It was then that he noticed that she was great with child. “I will accept your offer, sir, though I doubt that you will be able to help me.”

  
She took a deep breath and began, “I met my husband in high school and we dated throughout those years. At the end of high school, Thomas, my husband proposed to me. My family, being Inuit, did not approve of my marrying a white man, but I married him any way and was disowned for my love.” She paused, closing her amber eyes and taking a breath to steady herself.

  
“In order to support us, Thomas took a job in the Army and he was deployed to Afghanistan this past September. He...he was supposed to be home next month but....n-now he...he won’t be coming h-home at all.”

  
Loki looked at the woman from beneath his hood. He knew that he could do nothing for her, a young pregnant widow, and yet he felt compelled to help her somehow. “I am terribly sorry for your loss, my dear. It is devastating to lose the one you love, especially when you could have had so many happy years with him.”

  
“Thank you,” she sniffled, “but no amount of ‘sorry’ is going to return Thomas to me.”

  
“No,” he said, “it won’t. Nor was I trying to make believe that it would. As for Thomas returning to you, he already has.”

  
The woman looked offended. “How dare you! What do you know about having your h-husband returned to you in a B-BOX!” She was too lost in her grief to understand Loki’s meaning.

  
“No, I did not mean it that way,” he said, keeping his voice low and even. He knew that he would not get anywhere with yelling. “I was talking about your current state of pregnancy. The child is his, is it not?” She nodded and he continued. “A child is truly a gift to the world. It is made from pure love and that is so rare these days. Your child contains part of him and it will live on, even though he is gone. Treasure your babe, for it will bring you such joy, happiness, and unadulterated love throughout your life.” He smiled with his lips closed, knowing that she would be able to see the light reflecting off of his fangs. “I am sorry that I cannot do more for you, but you seem so strong and I know that you and your child will be able to survive this and love each other through the end.”

  
The woman sniffed again, smiling back at him. One of her hands cradled her stomach while the other wiped tears from her eyes. “Thank you, sir, for your beautiful words. They have given me hope. You are truly a wise man.” With that, she swung her legs back over the edge and clambered out of the window, leaving Loki alone again. _Please Frigga, as the Goddess of Mothers and Children, please watch over this woman and her child. They have been through enough to last a lifetime._


	28. Chapter 28

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note: Minor Character Death Off-Stage
> 
> It was necessary; I'm sorry

**Six Years Later**

  
Loki was concentrating with all of his might, his brow was wrinkled, pulling his Horns taunt and scrunching his ruby eyes. He was summoning and shaping ice into intricate patterns, interlacing them as the grew up the wall under the window. He had had a lot of time to perfect his summoning and was rather proud of his new abilities, even if they came with his current abhorrent form.

  
He was able to keep himself relatively cool without having to coat his body in frost that kept melting. He could proudly wield an ice blade and could even create throwing knives that detached from his body. Loki was particularly proud of the fact that he could create things out of ice without having to physically be touching the space where he wanted them to be. He was able to keep enchantments lasting for almost an hour before his vambraces dissolved his seidr into them. He was, frustratingly, still unsuccessful at getting any of what he had dubbed his ‘real’ seidr out of the cuffs.

  
When his sculpting reached the bottom of his window ledge, he noticed a small pair of sneaker covered feet swinging into his cell. Startled, he quickly dropped his hands and attempted to cover himself, only to realize that the owner of the feet had probably been staring at him for a while. Shamefaced and a bit frightened, Loki raised his eyes to those of the observer.

  
She was a pretty little thing with dark brown hair and striking blue eyes, light of frame and slightly dark of skin. She was smiling at him widely, showing him all of the holes left from her missing teeth. “Whatchya doin’?” she said in a sing-songy voice. It was almost bird-like and really charming to listen to.

  
“I was concentrating very hard,” he said, hoping that she had not seen his magic.

  
She quirked her head, the smile vanishing. “You’re lying. Mommy told me never to lie. You were doing magic, weren’t you? Can you show me? Can you teach me?”

  
Loki was taken aback. No one ever caught him in a lie. He was the God of Lies, for Odin’s sake. “Um...I....” He, ultimately decided to answer the little girl truthfully. “Yes, I was doing magic. I can show you but, unfortunately, you have to be like me to do it, so no, I cannot teach you.”

  
The child pouted before scooting her bottom to the edge and swung her body out into the open air. Gasping, Loki ran to the wall and caught the giggling girl before she hit the icy cobbles.

  
“DON’T EVER DO THAT AGAIN!” he cried, his heart pounding out of control, “You could have been seriously hurt. You could have DIED!”

  
Blue eyes stared back at him, uncomprehending. “Died?” she asked quietly. Loki nodded. “Then I would be with my Mommy and Daddy.” Her voice was almost a whisper.

  
“What did you just say?” Loki was in shock. Someone so young and yet so alone in the world. It couldn’t be possible.

  
“My Daddy died before I was born. He was a soldier and he was working across the world to save my Mommy and me. My Mommy died six months ago, right when I started Pre-School, I’m five.” She held up her hand, fingers spread. “She died in a car accident. And now I live with Miss Peters and her kids. They’re mean. Danny stole my lunch today.”

  
Loki stared at the little girl. A five year old who had lost everything and endured such hardship and yet was so happy was chattering away to a complete stranger and one who looked like a blue devil at that. She didn’t seem to care about what he looked like in the slightest, she just kept talking and smiling.

  
“I’m starting Kindergarten like a big girl next month because it’s September and that’s when school starts. I get to take the bus and I’m going to be in Miss Finch’s class at Greenfield Elementary. I’m going to have lots of friends there, right? Like you and not like Danny or Katie or little Lionel who just cries all the time, right?” Loki nodded.

  
“Can I see your magic now?” she asked, wide-eyed, her blue depths twinkled at him, reminding him of Thor.

  
“Sure,” he said, setting the child on her feet. “Just look behind you.”

  
The little human spun around and gasped, her smile widening further. “That’s so pretty! You are a great artist. I like to draw, do you like to draw? My favorite color is purple, what’s yours?”

  
“Green,” he replied reminiscently thinking about his old eyes, the sheets on his bed and the color that littered most of his clothing. His seidr. Pushing the dreary thoughts away for another time, Loki focused again on the child in front of him.

  
“How did you find me?” he asked, curious. The only other person who had ever found him was the pregnant woman and he had never asked her how she stumbled across his window.

  
“My Mommy told me,” she said, matter-of-factly. “She told me, when she was in the hospital and had all of those tubes sticking out of her, that if I ever needed anything, I should walk out of town, passed the rock that looks like a goat and towards the mountain. She said that a wise hermit lived there and told her the bestest advice ever!” She grinned. “It took me six times to find you, but I did and now we’re friends.”

  
_Her. Mother. The woman. Is dead._ Loki could barely process the connection. The woman had taken his advice and had still died young, leaving her husband’s gift behind. But what if the girl wasn’t for her but for someone else? _...No, I shouldn’t think that. But still, what if she was my gift? A companion for my lonely exile._

  
“Hello, Mister. Are you listening to me?” The child stood, arms akimbo, feet planted with her chin tilted up at him.

  
“I am sorry, I was just remembering your mother. She was a wonderful woman.” He gave the girl a small smile, his lips firmly closed over his pointed teeth. “I am certain that we can be friends, if that’s what you would like.”

  
“Yes please! You can be my first friend. Well, maybe my second friend, after Mommy. We went on adventures together. One time, we went fishing in a river and the fish was so strong, it pulled me in! I was only three, so I wasn’t a strong, big girl like I am now.” Loki nodded in agreement. The child was very strong. “Mommy had to pull me out and we both got wet but we got the fish and we took pictures with it and then ate it with S’mores!”

  
At the mention of food, the child’s stomach rumbled. She dropped her hands to it and muttered, “Shhh, stomach. Miss Peters won’t feed you between lunch and dinner, and we’re here and there’s no food. Stupid Danny for eating my sandwich. He’s a meany.”

  
“Yes, he is a meany, but, if you ever need food, you can come to me. I do have some here.” Loki made his way to the food cubby. It was a little early for dinner, but he could give the child everything except the raw meat and save the cut for himself to eat later. Grabbing the roll, baked potato and cheese, he returned to the child, offering the food. She looked from the food in his clawed hands to his sincere face and back again before grabbing the morsels, sitting down on the floor and digging in. He walked back to the water nook, filled his cup with water and brought it to the little girl.

  
She ate with abandon and Loki wondered how many meals she had missed due to her foster siblings’ cruelty. “You know, darling, that you can come here any time you want,” he said, longing to reach out and stroke her hair, an odd feeling swelling in his chest, but kept his hands to himself all the same. “I will always be here if you need me.”

  
The little girl had finished all of the food and drunk her water in record time. “Thank you Mister. I should go back to Miss Peters soon so she doesn’t get upset for me being out late.” The child stood and brushed off her bottom. “How can I get out of here?”

  
_Well, shit_ , thought Loki. _How can I get her out of here?_ Looking at the walls, he reached for his Jotunn seidr and thought about steps and stairs and began to summon them forth, creating a small narrow stairway that led from the floor to the window. “You can use those,” he said in a strained voice. It had taken more effort than he thought it would.

  
“Wow! You really are magic, aren’t you?” The child bounded up the steps and onto the window ledge. She turned to face him, backlit by the low sun. “I’m Aiko Mina Orson. What’s your name?”

  
It had been so long since anyone had used his name. He wasn’t sure it fit him anymore. Instead, he said, “I have not used my name in a long time. I would prefer it if you called me by what you think I should be called.”

  
Aiko, a fitting name for the beautiful girl, smiled and waved. “Okay! See you later, Blue!” With that she turned and hopped off the other side, skipping and singing back towards the town.

  
_Blue. How original_ , Loki thought, rolling his ruby eyes. _Got to love children_.


	29. Chapter 29

_Asgard_  
Frigga smiled at her son and the child. That little human had brought so much joy, not just to him, but to Frigga as well. Aiko, the product of pure love, was a vibrant and energetic girl. She would visit Loki, or Blue as she referred to him, at least three times a week. They would, as Aiko put it, ‘go on adventures’ with Aiko hanging onto the god’s broad ridged back as he climbed, albeit not high, along the walls, or with the two of them skating along the floor, a make-shift rink that Loki created. He always fed the girl, but waited until she left to ravage the raw meat, obviously ashamed of his eating habits and diet.

  
The visits became more infrequent with the start of school, but Aiko would come on weekends and spend most of her day with him, chattering away about her classmates, her teachers, and her favorite subjects (art, music, and reading). She would sing songs for Loki that she had learned in school, her voice so refined for a child of her age. Aiko would also bring him artwork that she had done, stunningly beautiful and expertly drawn.

  
The years had passed and the child grew more vibrant and beautiful as the days wore on. Loki remained the only constant in her little storm-tossed life. She had been shuffled to three more foster families, each more neglectful than the last, with this current one being the worst.

  
Aiko was only ten and yet had endured so much. When she visited Loki today, something was very different about her. Some of her fire was gone and she moved slowly. Frigga watched intently.

  
_“Blue?” the little girl called from the window, her right arm wrapped across her torso. “Are you there?”_

  
_“Of course I’m here, silly girl. Where else would I be?” Loki rose from his nest on the floor, chuckling. He made his way to the floor below the window and held his arms out for her to jump into them, a tradition started from their very first meeting._

  
_Aiko looked sad. “I can’t today, Blue, I hurt too much.”_

  
_“What?” Loki looked startled and quickly lowered his arms. “What is wrong, Aiko? Are you hurt?” He quickly began to forge steps from the ice so that she could some down to him without the risk of him jostling her. Slowly, Aiko made her way down the steps._

  
_Without the backlighting, Loki could see her black eye, her bloody and split lip, and noticed that her arm never unwrapped itself from around her body. He closed his eyes, calming the rage the filled him. There was naught he could do to or for anyone if he got angry. Levelly, he asked, “Who did this to you?”_

  
_Aiko did not answer. Instead she looked at her feet, obviously more interesting than the concerned face in front of her. “Aiko. Answer me.”_

  
_She took a shaky breath. “John, my foster brother and his gang of bullies cornered me after school.”_

  
_“And why would they do a thing like that?” he asked, deep down really wanting to turn John into something unsavory, his hands itching for his ‘real’ seidr._

  
_The girl mumbled something that was not quite clear. She was still staring at the floor._

  
_“I am sorry I did not catch that. I do not think the floor will be able to help you either.” Loki was really starting to get concerned. The ten year old raised her chin and squared her shoulders._

  
_Taking a deep breath she said, “John and his friends beat me up because I’m a no-good freeloader with two dead parents and no friends. My name is weird. I’m too smart and I’m too good at art and music and school that I must be cheating and they said that I’m so ugly, they couldn’t stand to look at me.”_

  
_Loki felt like Mjölnir had hit him in the chest, the wind was knocked right out of him. The beautiful girl in front of him, **his** beautiful child, was being beaten for being different. He glanced in the mirror. He knew what it felt like to be an outcast. He was living it right now. _

  
_“Come here, Aiko,” he whispered, opening his arms to her. She walked in hugging him tightly and crying into his bare chest. Her body was hot to his touch, her tears scalded his skin but it was worth it to have human contact. He had not had any in 14 years._

  
_When her crying had subsided and the sniffles began, Loki pulled himself away from her, keeping his hands on her shoulders and looked down at her face. “Let’s get you cleaned up a bit. There’s a sink in the other room. Please wash the blood off your beautiful face so I can put some ointment on it.”_

  
_Aiko obeyed, retreating to the smaller anti-chamber as Loki went to his herb cubby and mixed herbs for numbing and healing. When Aiko returned, face newly cleaned, Loki brought her to his nest and sat her down. As he began to apply the mixture to her lip, eye and left side, he began to talk._

  
_“You should not listen to those boys. They know nothing about you or what your life has been like. All they know is that you are beautiful, and talented, and oh, so smart. You told me that you are the top of your class, such an accomplishment should be celebrated! You have worked hard to be where you are in school. You are so talented. Your singing puts the birds to shame and you know how I treasure your art.” He gestured to the mirror in front of them. He had concocted a putty that allowed him to attach her drawings and paintings to the surface._

  
_Loki continued as he worked. “Your name, Aiko, means ‘Child of Love.’ You came to your mother at such hard time in her life and that is exactly what you are. A child born of love. You are beautiful. In fact, the stars in the sky are so jealous of your beauty that they blink in acknowledgement of your victory. Those boys do not know how to act around someone as special as you, and so they lashed out as a way to harm you both physically and mentally. I want you to know that whatever bullies say or do, it comes from their weakness, not yours...The best revenge against bullies is absolutely, resolutely, never to let them change who you are. I cannot make them stop beating you, I can only encourage you to tell an adult at school that you trust. I also urge you not to listen to a word that they say because they are liars. Their mommies never told them not to tell lies like yours did. I know that your Mommy is very proud of you and she and your Daddy loved you very much. I am sure that they are watching us right now and that they are so pleased with the young lady you have become. There, I’m all done. Are you feeling better?”_

  
_Loki put down the bowl and wiped his fingers on the edge of his loincloth. Aiko nodded, “Yes, Blue, though I still am a bit sore.”_

  
_“Well let’s fix that, shall we,” Loki said, shifting so that he was sitting next to her, his right arm wrapped around her slim shoulders. “Here, press your face against my shoulder and snuggle on up to my side. I should be able to get you numb in no time!” Aiko giggled and complied._

  
_“Now Aiko, let me tell you a story, It is a true story and I want to tell you the whole tale before you ask any questions, okay?”_

  
_“Yes, of course, Blue,” she said, her voice excited at the notion of hearing a story._

  
_“Alright. Once upon a time, there were two brothers. One was golden, the other black. They were very different, but they loved each other very much. The black-haired brother, his name was Loki, always tried really hard at his studies while his brother, whose name was Thor, practiced his fighting skills constantly. As they grew older, the boys’ father told them that Thor was to become the next king. Loki, thinking that he would make the better ruler, became very jealous and invited an ancient race of monsters to enter the realm during his brother’s coronation to prove that Thor was not suited for a crown. The race, known as the Jotunn or Frost Giants, tried to steal something that was very valuable. They were stopped. Thor insisted that action needed to be taken against the Frost Giants and he, Loki and four of their friends ventured to the Giants’ home and started a mighty battle. The Giants can control ice and are very cold and burned everyone that they touched with frost bite, except Loki, which confused him. When all hope looked lost for Thor and his companions, Thor and Loki’s father arrived and apologized to the Jotunn. When they returned home, Thor was punished and Loki found out that he was actually an adopted Frost Giant. Their father became ill and, since Thor had not yet proven himself to be a good king, Loki was given the opportunity to rule. He discovered that it was really hard but he kept working at it because someone had to lead the people. Loki, being naive and hurt about being lied to by his father about his real parents, offered to let the Frost Giants in to kill his fake father. Loki was unable to go through with it, though, and he ended up killing his Frost Giant father to save the man that he had grown up calling father. Instead of accepting who he truly was, Loki decided to kill all of the Frost Giants so that he wouldn’t actually be one. He had always been told that they were beasts, monsters who ate badly behaved children, who could kill you with one touch. In his mind, they deserved to die and his true heritage was a painful part of him for many years. Thankfully, Thor returned in time to stop Loki, and Loki, realizing that he had greatly disappointed his father, chose to leave instead of stay and face trial._

  
_“When Loki finally stopped wandering, he was captured by the Titan named Thanos and was tortured and bent to his will. He was told that he needed to find a very powerful object for Thanos and destroy Earth or else everyone he had ever loved would die. So he did. Instead of winning, Loki was defeated. He had lost the powerful object that Thanos had wanted and he had killed thousands of people in the process. When he was taken back to his father by his brother, Thor, Loki decided that he would not tell his father anything about Thanos. His actions were his own and, hopefully, if he and the rest of Loki’s family did not know about Thanos, the Titan would not kill them. Loki’s father laid down a very harsh punishment. It was fitting for his crimes. Loki was sent away from his home to a place where he would live out his days alone and in his true, Frost Giant form, unable to perform magic to change his appearance or to escape. He was told to think about what he did and what he could do to help people, and, if he did that, there was a possibility that he could go home to his family. Loki spent his days in the prison that was provided for him, looking at the ugly reflection of the monster that he truly was. He had the luck of meeting some wonderful people who changed his life for the better but he never made it home. And so, the moral of the story is that there are two sides to every person’s life and those boys might be bullying you because, like Loki, they need to feel in charge of something in order to prove themselves in someone else’s eyes. Do not let them bother you, for they are lost souls and one day, they will realize their mistakes and live in regret of them for the rest of their lives.”_

  
_Silence followed Loki’s story. Aiko slowly lifted her head off his shoulder and looked at his profile. Loki turned to meet her gaze, which was questioning and curious._

  
_“Blue,” she hesitated. “Are you Loki?”_


	30. Chapter 30

**Asgard**

  
Frigga was enthralled, as was Odin who had joined her in her solar. Both waited anxiously for Loki’s response to the mortal’s question.

  
_The silence stretched between them. Aiko continued to look into Loki’s face, trying to make eye contact with him. He faced her, but tried to avoid her eyes, regretting telling his life’s story to the child. He should have known that she would have made the connection. She was too smart not to notice it. He was startled from his inner conflict by a warm palm touching his right cheek. His ruby eyes snapped to meet her blue ones._

  
_“Blue. Are you Loki?” she asked again, searching his face for an answer._

  
_He took a slow, deep breath and exhaled saying, “Yes.” Aiko’s hand quickly dropped away and Loki shifted to get up and away from the girl who would probably be really distraught at the revelation of his true identity, his crimes, his race’s true nature. Instead, the little child pulled him closer to her, wrapping him in a warm hug._

  
_Startled, it took Loki a few seconds to register what was happening. Why wasn’t she running away screaming or beating him or cowering in the drapery? Reflexively, his arms wrapped about her back and he rested his chin on the top of her head. “I am unsure of what I did to deserve this response from you, but thank you. I feel much better,” he said, dropping a kiss to her dark curls._

  
_“Oh, Blue, I mean Loki, do you still hate that you are a Frost Giant?” she said into the crook of his neck. “Because I think that you are a wonderful Frost Giant who is kind and sees the best in people and is really beautiful.”_

  
_She raised her head and looked up into his face again. “I wish I looked like you,” she sighed._

  
_Turning to face Aiko, Loki saw no lie in her eyes. “You want to look like...like me?” he whispered, astounded that anyone would choose to look the way that he did, all blue and ridges, be-horned with startling ruby eyes and fangs and claws._

  
_“Yes,” she answered, her hands reaching up to trace his horns and Jotunn ridges. As she travelled down his arms, she grabbed his hands and held them tenderly. “You still haven’t answered my question, Blue...Loki. Do you still hate that you’re a Frost Giant?”_

  
_Loki contemplated the question and answered honestly. “Not as much as I did. I still do not think that I am handsome - you have never seen my other form, but I have come to accept the fact the I am what I am and I cannot change that. You have helped me with that so much, and for that I am eternally grateful, Aiko. Truly.”_

  
_Her brave, shining face smiled up at him. “I should go. Mr. Thompson will be really upset if I’m not home in time to make dinner.” Aiko pulled away from his body and stood up._

  
_As she headed to the stairs, Loki said, “Remember, Aiko, that in all my long years and many acquaintances, you are still the most beautiful, smart, and talented person I have ever met.”_

  
_She turned and smiled at him, “I won’t forget. The same goes for you, Bl-Loki. You need to remember that too.”_

  
_“I will, sweet one, and you can keep calling me Blue, if you’d like.”_

  
_With one last, smile that put the stars to shame, Aiko ran up the stairs and out the window into the twilight._

  
“I see that some progress is being made. There may yet be hope for your son,” Odin intoned as the image faded from the bowl. Frigga gave her husband a knowing smile.

  
“He still has much to learn, though,” Odin said gruffly, walking briskly for the door, determined to begin looking for the Titan, Thanos who threatened his family.


	31. Chapter 31

**Paradise, Alaska**

  
**Six Years Later**

  
“Aiko, there is someone I would like you to meet.”

  
The teenager looked up from her sketchpad, a half-finished Blue staring up at her mischievously, and pulled her dark, wavy hair back and over one shoulder. Her social worker, a small, mousy woman with thick cats-eye glasses and bleach-blonde hair was standing by the far door, beckoning eagerly for Aiko to come to her.

  
Sighing, Aiko closed her sketchpad and tossed it and her pencils into her patched backpack. She grabbed her thin coat, a hand-me-down from her foster sister Grace that was too big for her, slung her bag over one shoulder and walked into Mrs. Sykes’ office. She hated social work meetings. She sat and listened as Mrs. Sykes asked her about her life. Did she like school? How was her foster family treating her? Did she have a lot of friends? Unable to answer all of her questions truthfully, Aiko would focus on the positives and give partial truths to Mrs. Sykes, who believed them all. She had excellent grades and had recently won the school talent show with her singing. She was assigned to paint a mural in the Art wing, a great honor because her work would be there forever.

  
One of the things she could never talk about was Blue. She tried to visit him as often as possible, spending all day Saturday there, but not every week like she used to. Her foster family had had her get a job, she was waitressing part-time at the local diner, on top of having her baby-sit their younger children most evenings. But the days she was able to spend with Blue were moments that she treasured.

  
Instead of ‘adventuring’ as she called it when she had first met him, they would spend hours talking. He would tell her about his childhood in Asgard and she would tell him about her week. He had taught her many things as well, like how to use herbs to speed healing, eliminate pain, and cure acne. He taught her how to create his braid, a faux-hawk that started at the front of his head and work its way back through his horns. She wore her hair like that most days, feeling particularly badass. She, in turn, taught him to draw and even got him a sketchpad and pencils for Christmas a couple of years ago, using some of her waitressing money that she had hidden from her foster parents. She remembered his eyes filling up with tears at the sight of the gift. She was so happy in that moment that she thought she would burst.

  
One of her favorite lessons came when she was thirteen. She had just started middle school and the bullying had gotten worse. She was the last girl in her grade to begin puberty and John and his friends had cornered her after school. They pulled at her hair and kneaded her tender breast buds through her shirt. John had even begun to slide his hand up her skirt while his friends held her down and clamped hands over her mouth to prevent her screams from being heard. Thankfully, Mr. Becker, the music teacher, saw them and stopped the boys from doing more. Aiko was immediately removed from John’s house and spent a year going to a therapist. Blue, unable to do anything more than hold her and whisper soothing nothings in her ear, was mortified. That was when he began teaching her hand-to-hand combat. _I NEVER want to see you hurt again_ , he stated, holding her face, his ruby eyes bearing down on her blue ones. And he never did. She was a very fast study, clearly remembering the proud smile he had on his face after she had head-butted him so hard his nose had started to bleed.

  
Then, there was that time about six months ago in the dark of winter when Blue got really sick and she learned his secret. She had arrived that Saturday morning, thrilled to have the day with him. She had used a rope to repel down into his cell and called for him. When he didn’t answer, she went to door of the smaller chamber, knocked and opened it. _Blue?_ she’d whispered. A soft moaning, _'Go away'_ came back to her through the darkness. Shocked at his response, she threw the door side open, flooding the room with the light from the lantern she had brought. He was lying the in the tub, legs over the sides, his head lolling on the back. His usually royal blue skin was almost purple with fever.

  
_Oh my God, Blue! You’re sick!_ she cried running over to him and looking downward into the tub. His clawed hands flew downward to protect his modesty, but they could not hide the stream of dark blue liquid that was pouring out of him. She stopped, shocked at the amount of what she could only assume was blood, before looking up to his face. Through the fever, she could see that he was mortified. A quick sweep of his body left one conclusion as to where the blood could have been coming from.

  
_Blue, why are you bleeding from, you know, down there?_ Her eyes bore into his, but showed no signs of disgust. Just curiosity. He swallowed visibly, unsure of what to tell the young woman.

  
Inhaling through his nose, he said, _Because I am Jotunn._ He met her eyes and saw that he did not answer her question in any way. He continued, Jotunn are the only species in the universe that have both pairs of working reproductive organs. There is no male or female, jus _t Jotunn. Every five years, I have gone into something known as heat to remind me that I am not only capable of siring babies but of carrying them as well. It always starts like this, the bleeding from that...organ, and the fever. Once the bleeding stops, I eat a root, it’s in the bag by your foot, and it stops me from becoming a sex crazed maniac for the next week. As I’ve said before, there are parts of me that are just truly repulsive and this is one of them. I am sorry that you have seen me in this state._ He hung his head, the light from the lantern glinting off his horns and casting demonic shadows on the walls.

  
Aiko reach up and brushed a bit of his hair out of his face and behind his ear. He was warm, which was startling, and he shuddered at her touch as her fingers stimulated his Jotunn ridges. _I do not think you are repulsive, Blue. I think you are a miracle_ , she whispered, her hand taking his chin and turning his sad face towards her kind one.

  
_You know that I have never had anyone, besides my mother, care for me as you have, and, no matter what you tell me, no matter what you have to do to survive, I will always be here for you. I...I love you, Blue, and nothing is going to change that. You are the parent that I have never had and I desperately wish that I was your daughter and that you’d be proud of me because I know that I can never live up to the life that you have led. But I will try and I will keep loving you, even if you grow another eye or a vestigial tail or subsist on a diet of kittens._

  
Loki chuckled, she still did not know of his eating habits, and he hoped she never would. His smile made Aiko light up. _My dearest Aiko. I do not know what I have done to deserve your love, but know this: You have been my daughter ever since you jumped into my arms all those years ago and you have made me the most proud father in the world, exceeding my expectations in every way. Now_ , his body shivered, _you really need to go. Please hand me that bag before you leave._

  
Aiko reached down and plucked the satin bag off the floor, placing it in his blue palm. She planted a kiss on his brow, causing him to shudder again, and headed for the door. Before exiting, she turned and said, _I love you, Blue. Please get well soon_. With that she vanished around the corner, hearing his call, _I love you too, darling Aiko. More than anything_.

  
Aiko was shaken from her thoughts by Mrs. Sykes clearing her throat. The social worker gestured for her to sit in a chair on the opposite side of the wide desk from where she stood. Aiko took the seat, dreading this meeting with all her heart as Mrs. Sykes turned her laptop around to face her side of the desk. The screen displayed a man, large and blonde, and a woman, petit and brunette. They smiled at Aiko, the woman awkwardly waving and saying, “Hi.”

  
Aiko cocked her eyebrow and looked up at Mrs. Sykes questioningly.

  
“Aiko Orson, these are Doctors Donald and Jane Blake. They would like to adopt you.”


	32. Chapter 32

“That is wonderful news, Aiko! They sound like the most wonderful people and you have told me that you always wanted to be adopted,” Loki was forcing a smile and a cheerful demeanor as he slowly died inside. _Aiko is leaving me. She was adopted and she’s leaving me for New York. I will never see her again._

  
Aiko, on the other hand, was not hiding the fact that she was upset. “Yes, I said that, but I meant **by YOU!** I know that it was never possible but I want to live with _you, here_ , in Alaska, _not_ across the country in New York City! I have a plane to catch tomorrow! TOMORROW! WHY DID THEY HAVE TO RUSH THIS ADOPTION? I’VE _NEVER EVEN MET THESE PEOPLE_! What if they don’t like me? What if I’m really horrible to them, do you think they’d send me back and I can be with you?”

  
“Aiko,” Loki said sternly, “You will do no such thing. These Dr.’s Blake sound truly wonderful and I know that they will be very happy to have you and they will love you as much as I do. You will love them too, I am sure. As for living with me, you know how much I would love that but you also know that it is impossible. I do not need the heat, so there is none. You would freeze to death before my eyes, and I cannot think of you suffering so. Please, just give them a chance, if not for you then for me. Go _live your life_. You are meant for greater things than this, Aiko.”

  
She sniffled, burying her face into Loki’s cold chest, her tears streaking down it like lava down a mountain side. He held her to him, memorizing the feeling of her hair, her back, her arms around his waist, her face against his cold expanse. Selfishly, he contemplated never letting her go, holding her here, where they both wanted her to be. _No, I have to let her go. She needs this, a family, real parents, a real life. Who knows, she might make friends in New York, become a ‘normal’ teenager without the burdens that she had borne here hounding her across the country._

  
Aiko began to cry harder but she pulled away from Loki and went to the mirror beneath the window where she had left a rather large bag. Pulling out a rectangular object, she returned to Loki, her tears leaving wet spots on the brown paper like the rain on dry soil. “I painted this for you. It won first prize at the art fair last week. It’s part of a collection I call ‘Transformation.’ I...I hope you like it.”

  
Searching her teary face for any hint of what lay beneath the paper, Loki turned the painting over and tore the tape with one of his claws. Gently, so as to not scratch the artwork that lay in the paper, he pulled the painting out and slowly flipped it over. He looked up at Aiko, his jaw dropped, before returning his gaze to the flawless painting.

  
It was an oil paint with a blue-grey background that faded and darkened around the two figures that stood within it. He gazed in awe at a perfect rendering of himself, every last Jotunn ridge faded with age, every lacquered ring of his horns, even the two shades of red with in his eyes where flawless. His image looked hopeful, a hint of a smile playing at its blue lips as it looked down at the second figure. It was Aiko, her dark brown hair was thrown up in a braid that matched his, shining in the light of some unknown source. Her blue eyes held such joy, it was as if he was staring at a picture instead of a portrait. She was smiling widely and looking up at his image as if there was nothing more wonderful in the entire world.

  
“Aiko, this is beautiful. I can see why it won first prize. Are, are you sure you want to give this to me?” He looked at her questioningly as she smiled through her drying, tear-streaked face.

  
“Of course. You need to read the back,” she snuffled, helping him flip the painting over. The inscription read: “ _Family, Part 2 of Transformation” by Aiko Mina Orson_. Below it, in her lovely script was written a message. _To my one true Father, I love you with my whole being, Blue, ‘warts and all.’ Love, Your Daughter, Aiko_.

  
Loki’s eyes overflowed, his own hot tears coursing down his face as his heart broke and melted. He had never felt so wanted, or so loved in his entire life than at that moment. Knowing that it would soon end was devastating to him. _Oh, All-Father, what did I do to deserve this?_ “Dearest, I love it and I will treasure it always until the end of my days. Thank you for this beautiful gift.”

  
He paused, cradling her to his chest again before continuing, “But what of Part 1? Am I correct in assuming that you are keeping that piece?”

  
“Of course, I am, Blue. Do you want to see it? I brought it with me.” She dove into her bag once more, pulling out a much smaller canvas. “It’s also an oil painting. I’ve found that they are really perfect for capturing your skin. It’s called ‘Alone’.”

  
Carefully unwrapping the picture in her hands, she flipped it over to face Loki. It contained an image of him against a black background, his face shadowed and filled with lonely longing. He was looking right at the viewer and Loki felt like he was staring in a mirror. “Wow,” he breathed. “You are truly the most talented portrait painter in all the Nine. You put the royal painters to shame. The detail is exquisite. How do you capture your subjects with such perfection?”

  
Aiko smiled, taking the picture back and putting it into her bag. “I don’t know. You’ve just inspired me to see the world differently, I guess. Will..will you sign it for me, please?” She held out the painting with one hand and scrambled into her pockets for a Sharpie.

  
Loki smiled, “Of course, my dear one. I would love to. Promise me one thing, though.” He paused, waiting for her nod of agreement. “Do not reopen this painting until you are unpacking in New York. Only then can you read my message, ok?” She nodded again, a confused look on her face.

  
He put the marker to the back of the painting, writing a testimonial of his love for the only person that he would ever call his. Wiping his tears periodically as he wrote, he could feel Aiko’s curiosity building. Finished, he held out a hand. “Paper, please.” Wrapping the painting carefully, he gently handed it back, meeting Aiko’s watery eyes. She put it back into her bag and ran into his arms, knowing that their time was growing short. The sun had started to set, painting the walls of Loki’s prison orange and red.

  
“I love you, Blue,” she murmured into his chest.

  
His kissed the top of her head and whispered, “No matter where you live, who you live with, or what you are doing, I will always love you, my darling Aiko, my Child of Love. Never forget that or me, the sad, blue creature that I am, because I will _never_ forget you.”

  
They held the hug for a long time, enjoying the closeness and the difference in body temperature. When Aiko began to shiver, Loki morosely let go and pulled back.

  
“You had better hurry. Live well, my Love.”


	33. Chapter 33

**New York City**

  
Aiko was met at the airport by a stern-looking driver who introduced himself as Phil. He looked at Aiko through his sunglasses, interested in the girl that had been adopted by an Avenger. She was definitely pretty. She was of medium height, hourglass shaped, with coffee colored skin. Here almond eyes were the purest blue and they complemented her dark hair, which was pulled back in a rather interesting braid. She wore a backpack, full to the point of bursting, and a large, black artist’s folio which was clenched against her chest. “Do you have anything else?” he inquired. It was a long way to move from Alaska to New York. A teenage girl like herself must have at least five suitcases.

  
She shook her head, looking ashamed. “No, sir. This is all I own.” Phil Coulson was dumbstruck, but, as usual, you couldn’t tell.

  
“Alright, then. Please come with me to the car, Aiko. Your parents are really excited about meeting you.” They wound their way through JFK, Aiko stopping to stare at almost everything. There were so many people, so many stores, such pretty clothes, so many flashing lights. It was so different from Alaska. She couldn’t wait to tell Blue...After that, she just focused on Phil, trying to bite back her tears.

  
**Paradise, Alaska - Midgard Prison**

  
Loki sat in his nest, arms curled around his legs, with his chin resting on his knees. He looked longingly at the opposite wall, his eyes flitting from picture to picture, but incessantly returning to the large painting in the middle, “Family.” Each picture helped him relive a memory. The crayon drawing on the college-ruled paper of a princess was from when Aiko was eight and she’d insisted on painting his claws that ghastly shade of bright pink and combed his hair roughly with a brush (something that hadn’t happened since before his exile) until it flowed, shining down his back. And then she’d pulled out the scissors.

  
Loki laughed looking back at the memory. His hair was long enough at that point that her uneven trim had barely made a dent, in fact, it had eliminated his split ends, but it went from the small of his back to the bottom of his shoulder blades rather quickly. Now, he was thankful for the haircut. For some reason, unknown to him and left out of the anatomy book, his hair grew rather quickly. Eight years later, and he could sit on his braid comfortably.

  
The picture next to it, a charcoal from last year, was a picture of a starling in flight. Loki thought that it looked exactly like Little One and it gave him hope. Aiko and Little One would have really gotten along, though they probably would have fought over the roll. And now they had both left him, free like the bird in the drawing.

  
His eyes flickered to “Family” again, looking at her beaming face. He smiled at the carefree air that she had captured, forever young and vibrant. It was exactly the way he wanted to remember her.

  
**Asgard**

  
“But, Jane, what if she doesn’t like me?” Thor whined as Jane busily straightened his tie and brushed his suit jacket. They were leaving for Avenger’s Tower to collect their new daughter and Thor was nervous. “She will obviously love you, Jane. Who couldn’t love you with your laugh and your love of science? But me, all I do is hit things with a hammer!”

  
“Thor,” Jane said sharply, pulling his face down to meet her raised eyebrows. “She will like you. And you do more than hit things with a hammer. You have saved the world multiple times and, last I checked, you were running a country. Now let’s go before your worrying makes us late.”

  
**New York**

  
Aiko spent most of the ride clutching her folio to her chest over the seatbelt and staring at the floor. Phil tried to engage her on conversation, pointing out places of interest only to receive noncommittal one-word answers. He tried a new tactic.

  
“Are you sad that you’re new parents live here instead of in Alaska? I’m sure you had a lot of friends there. It can be really hard to move, but it will get better, I promise.” He smiled at her in the rearview mirror.

  
Aiko smiled shyly. “Just one. If he could have come, I’d be so happy right now, but...” She paused for a long time causing Coulson to think that she was done. Opening his mouth to speak, she continued, “He had a job to do, so he couldn’t come. Maybe, once he’s won...”

  
Phil cocked his head. _Won? Did I just hear the word ‘won?’ It must have been ‘done.’ I’m missing things in my old age._ “I’m sorry to hear that, Aiko. Maybe your parents will take you to visit sometime.”

  
The teenager nodded, again staring at her worn shoes, not making eye contact. The rest of the drive was passed in silence: the girl was in mourning, the driver was trying to think on what she had told him.

  
The car stopped in front of a very tall building with an A on the side of a strange deck-like protrusion that reminded Aiko of Blue’s horns. “Welcome to Avengers Tower, Aiko. This will be your new home.”

  
Phil hopped out of the drivers seat, pulled her backpack out of the trunk, and ran around to open the door for her. “Did you say Avengers? Like the superheroes?” Aiko questioned, looking at Phil for the first time in over an hour, her expression stunned.

  
“Yes, I did.”

  
“And I’m living here? Do my parents work for Iron Man or SHIELD?” she asked, her curiosity getting the better of her. _Am I going to meet Blue’s brother, Thor?_

  
“You will have to ask them that question when you meet them. Come on, let’s get you inside.” Coulson gestured for her to follow him.

  
They entered the shiny lobby, wide open except for the titanium bank of elevators that lay in front of them. A young lady at reception looked up from her computer screen and said, “Welcome back, Agent Coulson.”

  
Aiko stopped and stared at the man beside her. “Agent Coulson?! I studied the Battle of New York in history class. You died! You got killed by Bl-Loki. How are you here?” _He had felt bad about it, one of his crimes that still tore him to pieces. If only I could let him know..._

  
Coulson kept walking, causing Aiko to run to catch up. “That is classified information and you are currently at Level 1 clearance. You need to be a Level 8 to know the details.”

  
He stepped into the central elevator, Aiko right behind him. The doors closed behind them with a ding.

  
_Will it be the Penthouse, Agent Coulson?_ The voice appeared out of nowhere, causing Aiko to scream and almost drop her folio.

  
“Yes, JARVIS. Thank you,” came Coulson’s cool response.

  
_Of course, Agent Coulson. Aiko Mina Orson, I am JARVIS, a pleasure to make your acquaintance. If you need anything at all, just ask._

  
“Um, yeah...JARVIS? What are you exactly and how do you know my name?” Aiko was scanning every inch of the elevator as it zipped up the floors.

  
_I am Just A Rather Very Intelligent System, the artificial intelligence system created by Tony Stark. I run the operations of Avengers Tower. I know everything that occurs within these walls including the lengthy searches and ridiculous amounts of paper work that your parents had to go through to get you into their custody._

  
_Arriving at the Penthouse. Enjoy Avengers Tower._

  
Aiko whispered a hurried thank you to the A.I. before being ushered into a wide open area where a party was apparently underway. The room was a half circle, with the elevator opening slightly off-center in the rounded section. To her right was a well-stocked bar made of marble and glass, to her left, down a small set of stairs, was a sitting area and a fireplace lounge. The front half of the room was entirely made up of windows. The floor was slate, with the exception of a couple of panels that were covered in glass. From her vantage point, she could see a humanoid shape in the broken slate.

  
There were a few people sitting either at the bar or the lounge, talking quietly. _Sir, Agent Coulson and Aiko Mina Orson_. The room fell silent. Then one man, whom she recognized from the pictures and the news as Tony Stark, stepped out from the bar and said, “Thank you JARVIS.”

  
Everyone was staring at her, making her shift her feet uncomfortably. She refused to look down or away, though. She needed to make her Blue proud. Gathering her courage, she said, “Hello, everyone. I’m Aiko.” She gave a small wave, feeling particularly foolish.

  
Tony Stark walked up to her and grabbed her waving hand. “Hello, darling, I’m Tony Stark. You can call me Tony. Let me introduce you to the crew.” The crew, evidently, was the Avengers. Aiko spent the next half hour being whisked around the penthouse, mingling with superheroes, constantly feeling like a traitor to Blue but enjoying every minute of conversation with the unique group of people.

  
After she had been introduced to Steve Rogers, or as Tony introduced him, ‘Capsicle,’ there was a strange rushing sound came from the oddly shaped balcony. Tony stopped talking for the first time all night and turned Aiko to face the glass doors. “Look at my landing pad kid, and meet your new Mommy and Daddy.”


	34. Chapter 34

**New York City - Avengers Tower**

  
Jane and Thor stepped off the Bifrost sight an hour later than planned. Jane was practically running, dragging her husband behind her like a naughty child. “I told you that you looked fine. I am sure she’ll like you. We are late, Thor. So, SO LATE!” Jane was muttering under her breath.

  
Thor was also muttering,”What does she think of Avengers Tower? What if she doesn’t want an Avenger for a parent? What if Tony did something awful to her and she ran away?”

  
The muttering of both parties stopped as JARVIS opened the doors for them. There, standing in front of them in a large, white t-shirt, paint-splattered jeans, and ratty purple Chuck Taylors, with Tony Stark’s arm wrapped around her shoulder, was their new daughter. Jane, unable to contain her joy at the knowledge that she finally had a child, ran to Aiko with open arms, wrapping her into a hug. “Oh, my. You are so beautiful in person. I am so glad that you are joining our family.”

  
Thor came up behind Jane and placed a meaty hand on her shoulder. “Jane, don’t scare her.” Jane pulled back under Thor’s arm, beaming uncontrollably. Thor continued, looking a bit wary through his smile, “Hello Aiko. We are so happy that you have come here to be with us as our daughter. We are not trying to replace your real parents. We know you have had a rough life but we just knew that you would help make ours a bit brighter. This is Jane, your mother and I am Thor, your father.”

  
“Th-th-th-Thor?” Aiko stammered. “The God of Thunder, Thor?” _Blue’s big brother whom he loved so much but didn’t know how to tell him. He’s my new father..._

  
“Yes, my dear. We had hoped to ease you into it a bit but, as you just witness our arrival via the Bifrost, there’s no hiding that we’re Asgardian,” Jane said cheerfully, still smiling. Thor’s brow furrowed. There was something that the girl wasn’t tell them, but it could wait, he was sure.

  
“Would you like to go to your new home, or we could stay here longer if you’d like?” Jane was babbling away, filling the silence between the members of the new family. Tony had retreated to the bar and was getting the party back in full swing. He had mentioned earlier that it was not for her. The team had just beaten Ultron someplace in the Midwest and were celebrating their victory.

  
“I, uh, would really love to see Asgard,” Aiko said shyly, secretly eager to visit the place where Blue grew up.

  
“Farewell my comrades in arms,” bellowed Thor as he ushered his wife and child out onto the launch pad. Upon reaching the round landing pad of Iron Man, Thor again raised his voice, shouting, “Heimdall, we are ready.” And they were beamed up.

  
**Paradise, Alaska - Midgard Prison**

  
Loki was looking at the paintings again. He had tried to distract himself, first with a book (boring) and then with climbing the walls (Aiko liked to ride on my back while I climbed), but decided that if he was going to be thinking about her, he might as well do it while looking at his daughter’s beautiful artwork.

  
There was that one picture of a horse with eight legs that she had drawn when she was ten. The horse was truly perfect, every muscle rippling beneath the pencil. It looked exactly like Sleipnir, Odin’s steed. She had been studying Norse mythology in school and had brought the pencil sketch to him thinking that he would like a picture of one of his children. He had laughed boisterously at the notion and explained that he did not have any children to speak of. The people and animals they claimed were his children were real, true enough, but the rumors that he had fathered or birthed them were started one night when Thor, Fandral, and Volstagg had had way too much mead to think clearly.

  
His eyes shifted to another picture only to be stopped by an image that he had never wanted to see again. Thanos was grinning wickedly at him through the mirror. “Hello, Prince of Asgard. Did you miss me?”

  
Loki scrambled to his feet, squeezing his eyes shut against the image. When he opened them, it was gone. _Maybe I was just imagining it,_ he thought, trying to reassure himself. Deep in his heart, however, he knew that Thanos had found him, and, without his ‘real’ seidr, he would die.

  
**Asgard**

  
The swirling vortex of Heimdall’s observatory rushed up to meet the little family. Aiko stumbled a bit upon her landing, causing Thor to grab her waist. “I am sorry,” he said, letting go.

  
“It’s fine. Thank you for catching me before I face planted,” she said, smiling for the first time since leaving Alaska. Her eyes greedily roved about the golden observatory, it’s cogs and gears shining in the ethereal light. A tall, statuesque black man in gold armor and a helmet that looked like bulls horns looked down at her with golden eyes.

  
“Welcome home, your majesties. And welcome to Asgard, my Princess,” his deep voice resonated to Aiko’s bones. “I am Heimdall, the Watcher and Guardian of Asgard and the Nine Realms.”

  
“Nice to meet you,” Aiko whispered, overwhelmed by his otherworldliness.

  
“Come, my daughter, we should get to the palace,” Thor said, holding out his hand for her to follow. She took his large, warmer hand with her small, delicate one, her folio still clutched tightly in her right hand. Jane was on Thor’s other side, her chattering had begin anew.

  
“This is the Bifrost. It’s an Einstein-Rosen Bridge which allows us to traverse the Nine Realms. Anyone who comes and goes must pass by Heimdall. It has greatly eliminated the threats to our people, though there are a few that know ways in and out of Asgard without taking the Bifrost, but they won’t harm you. One is the All-Mother, your grandmother, Frigga, and the other is living on Midgard, I mean Earth, in exile, so no worries there!”

  
 _Blue, she meant Blue_. Aiko had noticed Thor stiffen a bit when Jane had casually mentioned his adopted brother. It was obvious to Aiko that he still harbored some very deep feelings, whether it was love or hatred, she would have to figure it out for herself.

  
Suddenly remembering something that the Watcher had said, Aiko turned to Thor and asked, “What did Heimdall mean when he called me Princess?”

  
Thor chuckled, “Why Aiko, that is your title! I am King of Asgard, Jane is my Queen. As our adopted daughter, you are the Princess of Asgard.”

  
_Oh, Blue!_ she thought, _If you could only see me now._  
___________________________________

  
The trip down the Bifrost via horse and the subsequent ride through the city proved to be a lot of fun. Aiko had never done any riding but she enjoyed sitting in front of Thor, feeling the wind whipping her face and blowing her braid out behind her. Blue had told her that he was an excellent rider. She promised herself that she would learn.   
___________________________________

  
“And this is Bilskirnir, your new home. All of these rooms belong to us, excluding the rooms at the end of the hall on the right. Those belong to L....someone else. Any way,” Jane led the way down the hall to the third door on the right, next to the rooms that belonged to L...someone else _(I’m right next to his rooms_ , Aiko thought, making a mental note to see if she could get inside). “These are your rooms. Dinner is at seven. If you need anything just yell.”

  
Two maids pulled the massive gold doors open and Aiko stepped inside.


	35. Chapter 35

**Bilskirnir - Asgard**

  
The room was a massive wash of bronze, pale violet, and a white blood marble. The furnishings were a dark cherry, contrasting with the pale curtains were deep purple cushions on her couch, chaise lounge, and chairs that stood in front of a fireplace. The wall sconces were bronze and full of unlit candles. The far wall was an open-air balcony, lined with a marble and bronze railing.

  
Beyond the sitting room fire place was a door made of dark cherry with a bronze door handle. Aiko turned it gently, and heard it click open. The door, though heavy, swung open in it’s hinges silently and with ease. The next room was also well-lit, the sunlight streaming in through pair of french doors that were covered with a sheer violet fabric. There was an enormous bed, covered in deep purple sheets facing her from the opposite wall. On the wall next to her was another marble and bronze fireplace with space on the dark cherry mantle for a picture. Small framed portraits of Thor and Jane sat on one side of the mantle, a man with a golden eye patch and a woman with a warm smile on the other. On the wall facing the french doors, which opened onto a private balcony with bronze and dark cherry patio furniture and a couple of potted shrubs with light purple blossoms shaped like clovers, stood a very large, dark cherry wardrobe. Aiko walked over to it, running her hands along the impossibly soft bed sheets and the smooth cherry woodworking before turning her attention to the wardrobe. She caressed the intricate carvings of flora and fauna before grasping the handles and pulling the doors open.

  
There were dresses of every style and color, even a few pants outfits. She could see, towards the back of the closet, a collection of high-end, designer Earth clothes. _This is crazy_ , she thought. _How did I end up here?! Wait until I...oh, never mind._

  
Stepping away from the wardrobe, Aiko saw another door. Curious, she pulled the door open to reveal a marble and bronze bathroom, the candles in the sconces lighting up as she entered the room. There was no shower to speak of but there was, thankfully a toilet (Bronze, of course), a sink and a tub the size of a small pool with a ridiculous number of knobs and taps ringing it. _Hmm, a bath could be nice, wash the plane off of me. But, first things first._

  
Turning, Aiko returned to the first room, her sitting room, and picked up her bag and folio before returning to her bedroom. Setting both pieces of luggage on the bed, she ran her hand over the folio and grasped the zipper. The sound of the folio opening split the air loudly, almost startling the teenager with the sudden sound echoing around the room. She carefully ran her hand along her prints, many of her originals could not make the journey across the country, much less to another world. There was one, though, the companion to her parting gift to Blue, “Alone.”

  
Remembering what he had asked of her, she pulled the painting out and tore the paper off with reckless abandon, flipping the painting over to read his final words to her, left in his unsteady scrawl.

  
_My Dearest Aiko, Child of Love,_

  
_I know that you have titled this ‘Alone.’ The thought saddens me to look upon what you have captured and to think that you will look upon it every day and think of me, alone. I want you to know that, thanks to you and the gift of having you in my life, I will never truly be alone again, and neither will you. Our love for each other will connect us for the rest of our lives, regardless of if we ever meet again. Know that you have changed me to my core and made me look at myself with new eyes. While my portrait may have changed, it reflects the change that I have gone through internally as well. I am no longer the man I was, and it is largely due to having you to call my daughter. So go forth and live your life because it is truly going to be a gift, not just to me, but to the entire world. And until we meet again, I will be ‘Waiting.’_

  
_I will love you forever and more,_

  
_Blue_

  
Her eyes filled with tears and she took a shuddering breath. She missed him so much. It was hard to think that she was here in his home without him to show her the places where he and Thor had ventured, without him to plan and partake in ‘adventures,’ without him to share in the new world she was facing. Aiko inhaled deeply, filling her lungs to full capacity and squared her shoulders. He had called the painting ‘Waiting.’ She liked it. It gave her hope.

  
Facing the mantle, she saw that there was a hook, primed and ready for the portrait. She stood on her tip toes, holding the bottom corners of the painting and hung her artwork on the wall. Blue’s face looked back at her. It no longer looked lonely but it looked patient. “Until we meet again, Blue, I will love you.”

  
She turned from the fireplace and grabbed an emerald gown from her new wardrobe, still thinking of Blue. She walked into the bathroom, talking to herself, “Now let’s check out this tub.”


	36. Chapter 36

**Asgard**  
Promptly at seven, Jane knocked on her new daughter’s door. “Aiko? It is time for dinner.” She waited. Receiving no response, she opened one of the doors and called out, “Aiko?”

  
“I’m in here!” came a response from the bedroom.

  
“May I come in?” Jane asked, not wanting to intrude on the young woman.

  
“Sure, I’m almost done,” called Aiko from the other room. She had just gotten out of the tub. She had experimented with all the taps for over an hour before deciding on the heat of the water and the soap type and scent that she wanted to use.

  
Jane walked to her doorway to see Aiko brushing out her long, dark locks. She followed her daughter’s gaze to the newest addition to the room, a painting of a Jotunn-esque creature.

  
“That is stunning. Did you paint it?” she breathed, looking back at Aiko with wide eyes.

  
“Yes, I did. My art teachers said that I was really good at portraits. This one’s not even my best.” She finished brushing her hair and began to braid it in Blue’s style, down the center, starting at the beginning of her hairline.

  
Heavy footsteps sounded in the next room. “Aiko? Jane?” Thor called.

  
“In here, Thor. Aiko’s almost ready,” Jane said as her husband filled the doorway.

  
“Ah, here you are. Both of my lovely ladies in one room. I do not think I can handle the beauty.” Jane blushed and Aiko smiled kindly.

  
“That’s very kind of you, Thor, to say such a thing,” she said, still braiding furiously. Her gaze returned to the oil painting.

  
Thor’s eyes followed the gaze of his new daughter’s. The painting was exquisite, perfectly rendered. The subject looked slightly familiar but Thor couldn’t put his finger on who it was. _Is it the hair? The bone structure?_ He had certainly never met this Jotunn before. Unless... _For your crimes against Jotunnheim, I also release you from the enchantments binding you to any form but your true self until you learn the importance of all life. This is the sentence of the All-Father, so mote it be._ Slowly, Thor quietly said, “Is that...Loki?”

  
Jane looked startled and turned to her husband. “Of course it isn’t, dear. They’ve never met! Your brother is in solitude and we both know that he looks nothing like that.” Her hands smoothed the front of Thor’s loose shirt, trying to give comfort to her husband whose eyes were wide.

  
“But Jane, you were there. Do you not remember the words of the All-Father all those years ago? My father removed his glamour from him and restored him to his original form.” Thor’s voice was growing more and more manic.

  
“THOR!” hissed Jane. “Stop right now! Aiko does not know Loki. You are talking about someone who is portrayed as a cold-blooded killer in Midgardian history. Do not upset her so. See, she’s crying!” Jane left Thor’s side and wrapped her arm around Aiko’s slim shoulders. “It’s alright, sweetie. I am sure that this beautiful portrait was something that you dreamed up. Am I right?”

  
“No,” Aiko murmured in a barely audible whisper. “Thor is right. That is Loki.”

  
Jane’s hand flew up to her mouth, stifling an audible gasp. Thor looked just as shocked. “You, you knew him?” he asked, desperately.

  
Aiko nodded, swallowing the lump in her throat. “He is my dearest friend and has been since I was five. He became my father when I had no one, when I was abused by everyone else in my life, he was kind to me, and...and now I’m never going to see him again.” Her head fell onto Jane’s shoulder as her body was wracked with sobs. Thor moved to her other side and threw his muscled arm around her as well.

  
“Now, you and I both know that that is not true. Loki would move mountains to be with you. I have kept faith for a long time that he would come back to us, and now I know he will,” he whispered. “I _know_ he will.”


	37. Chapter 37

**Bilskirnir - Asgard**

  
Dinner the previous evening had been awkward to say the least. Odin, the stern man with the gold eye patch and apparently her new grandfather, was kind but very brief with her, especially after Frigga, the smiling woman in the portrait, had told her that she had grow into a truly fine young woman. Apparently Frigga was magical and possessed something known as seidr. She had been scrying (or in creeper terms, watching) Aiko all of her life, and, according to the woman, for most of her previous life as well. Aiko learned that she had originally been born a starling who had befriended Loki very early in his confinement. After she had died, leaving Loki devastated, Frigga rescued her body and soul from the rubbish heap and sent her into the womb of a young mother. The rest was history, but Aiko was, needless to say, very creeped out.

  
Thor and Jane, tried to make the atmosphere more comfortable by talking about her portrait and painting skills. After dinner was over, Frigga insisted on being shown the painting of ‘her baby boy.’ Aiko was showered with compliments from her new grandmother who claimed that it was an exact and perfect likeness. Odin viewed the painting with a barely concealed look of disgust, a single eye roll and a mutter that sounded something akin to “Well now he looks the part.”

  
Frigga attempting to ice things over, took Thor, Jane, and Aiko aside and said, “ I am so glad that chance has brought you all together! Now we will all truly be a family again once Loki arrives home!” Odin darkly stormed out. Frigga remained for another hour or so, asking Aiko about her life, outside of her interactions with Loki, on Midgard and told her about some of the wonders that Asgard could offer her. Before leaving, Frigga made Aiko feel very proud indeed by commissioning a work of Thor, Jane, and Aiko for the royal gallery. Thor and Jane, the natural parents that they were, sensed that Aiko was a bit overwhelmed, and bid her goodnight.

  
“We’re just across the hall if you need anything,” Jane said, kissing Aiko on the cheek. Thor ruffled her hair and whispered, “Good night my daughter” and the two of them made their exit arm in arm.

  
The sun brought with it a sense of adventure. Aiko was out of bed right as the birds began to sing. She was determined to look at Blue’s room before anyone else woke up. She had a feeling that a certain All-Father would not appreciate her being there.   
Silently, still dressed in her soft cotton night dress, she padded across her sitting room and opened the door just wide enough for her head to fit through. Poking her head into the corridor, she breathed a sigh of relief. _Empty._ Sliding the rest of her body through the small opening, she tip-toed to the doors on her right. She paused, hands on one of the door handles, and steeled herself for what could lay beyond the door. Taking a deep breath, she turned the knob and slid through the small opening. Not thinking to shut the door behind her, she began to take in the chambers. It was similar to hers but filled with more things and a different color scheme. Everything was black walnut, grey marble, gold trimming, and emerald cloth. His sitting room, a thin layer of dust coating the chairs, tables, and floor, was exactly like hers. Books upon books were stacked on tables, on the floor, along the mantle, and along the walls. The candles had been burned, many of the sticks on the tables were down to the tiniest of stubs from late night reading.

  
Carefully, Aiko tread along the emerald and gold woven carpet that covered most of the floor, leaving clean foot prints in the dust. The door to his bedroom was ajar, so she peered in. She did not know what she was expecting. It looked exactly like hers, except with the green, black, and gold color scheme. The mantle held mini portraits of Odin, Frigga, and Thor. The large painting hanging above the mantle was of a landscape, snow covered, with the tiniest of white blossoms poking up through the icy covering. The bed had been slept in and not remade, the silky sheets were disheveled, the pillow still bearing the indent of his head.

  
Gingerly, Aiko reached out and stroked the pillow. Then **black**.  
____________________________________

  
Thor and Jane were roused by a high pitched, ear-splitting scream. “Aiko!” They both yelled, leaping out of bed, Jane in her night dress, Thor completely in the nude. As her husband scrambled to pull on his pants, Jane ran across the hall to Aiko’s rooms.

  
Running through the doors and rooms, she screamed, “AIKO! AIKO! WHERE ARE YOU!”

  
Thor’s booming voice responded, “SHE’S HERE IN LOKI’S ROOM!” Jane sprinted, kicking herself for not thinking that her new daughter would be attracted to the chambers of the man that she had confessed to be like a father to her. Running around the corner and into the bedroom, her heart plummeted. Thor was kneeling next to Aiko’s very still body. “We need a healer,” he said. “She’s barely breathing.”

  
Odin flew into the room. “THOR! I have urgent need of you on Midgard. It’s Thanos.” Taking one look at his wife and adopted daughter, Thor stood.

  
“Go!” cried Jane. “I can handle this!” With that Thor held out his hand for Mjölnir.  
_______________________________________

  
**Paradise, Alaska - Midgard Prison**

  
The Titan stood before Loki, malice gleaming in his glowing eyes. “Hello Prince of Asgard, or should I say, _Runt of Jotunnheim_ ,” he chuckled, gloating over Loki’s current state. “I must say, it does seem fitting that a man who is such a monster inside look so hideously like one on the outside. I would know.”

  
Thanos smirked. “What do you want from me?!” Loki sneered. “Just kill me and be done with it.”

  
“Kill you! Oh, isn’t that rich,” the Mad Titan laughed. “There’s no sense in killing you, not when you can still get me what I want.” Loki studied him, keeping his mind blank while his Jotunn seidr worked. If he could keep him talking long enough, he’d be able to encase him in ice. After that, he had no plan, but immobilization seemed like a good place to start.

  
“And _why_ would I want to help you?” he inquired, cocking an eyebrow.

  
“Because!” A sharp blinding pain entered his skull, causing Loki to gasp and lose control of his seidr, which began to rapidly climb Thanos’ legs. “I have tied your life to one that matters to you. Does she look familiar?” Another flash of pain was accompanied by an image of Aiko, back arching, eyes closed, and screaming. “Too bad the healers will never figure out what’s wrong with her.”

  
Breathing shallowly through the pain, Loki answered, “What do you need of me?” The ice had worked its way up to Thanos’ chest.

  
“First, I need you to stop this magic trick of yours. It’s so pathetic that this,” his large, purple arm cracking a piece off, “Is the best you have for me.”

  
Loki, slowed the ice’s progress down to a crawl, but did not stop it, fixing his mind on something else to distract and mislead the larger being. “What else, Titan?” he spat.

  
“I am in need of the Casket of Ancient Winters and only a Frost Giant can touch it and wield it’s power, I’m told. That, and I really don’t wish to take a trip to Asgard at the moment.” The last part came across as almost nonchalant.

  
“And if I refuse?” Loki inquired, palms held up as the ice inched higher on the Titan.

  
“Oh, that’s simple. She will die and so will you.” Thanos smirked again as Loki’s face fell. Closing his eyes, he gathered his strength, praying that this would work. _I love you, Aiko, so much._ He sent the ice down his arm as he charged Thanos, now rooted to the spot with ice, letting a roar escape his lips as his horns glinted and his fangs were bared. Simultaneously, the sound of the Bifrost opening filled the chamber, distracting the Titan just enough to allow Loki time to stab him through his chest plate with a wicked and thick ice blade. Before the Bifrost even closed, lightening laced it’s way onto the purple monster, throwing Loki back against the wall. The lightening, combined with an excruciatingly brilliant white light, cloaked Thanos, the ice blade still lodged in his chest. Loki’s eyes went blurry, weakened because he had expended all of his seidr, the vambraces were leeching off of anything that had not force itself into Thanos. His head was bleeding, dark blue rivulets ran down his skull and into his hair as well as down his face and out one ear. As darkness began to close around him, Loki thought, _So this is how it all ends. I am sorry Aiko. I love you so much._


	38. Chapter 38

**Asgard**

  
The hot sun fell across his face, temporarily blinding him when he opened his eyes. He was reclining in a familiar room that he had not seen in a long time on a bed that was far too soft in comparison to the nest of drapery with it’s rough texture and itchy straw mattress on a cobblestone floor. He emitted a soft moan, raising his arm to shield his eyes from the light, hoping that it would help stop his pounding headache.

  
“Oh, thank goodness you are awake. We were so worried about you!” Loki inhaled and shifted on his exhale, turning his head slightly to see Frigga closing the emerald drapes to his bedroom in Asgard.

  
“M-Mother?” he croaked. “Why are you here? Wait, why am I here?” He was barely registering that he was no longer in that cell on Midgard. “What happened?”

  
Frigga sat in the chair by the side of his bed and held up a glass of water, which Loki graciously accepted with a nod, his horns clacking gently against the headboard. When he finished the water, deliciously cool against his hot, dry throat, he noticed a figure standing at the edge of his bed.

  
Odin leaned against Gungnir, looking slightly put-off at the monster that was draped in emerald silk sheets. “Loki Laufeyson, I hereby declare that your punishment has been fulfilled. Congratulations.”

  
Loki smiled, his fangs on full display, raised his clawed hands, and waited for the vambraces to fall off and the transformative magic to take hold again. When neither occurred, Loki looked up at the All-Father . “What is wrong?” he asked, inquisitive and not accusing as it was in the past.

  
“Unfortunately, there are some things that cannot be undone and some precautions that need to remain in place. Firstly, I restore to you only your least destructive magic, the kind that you learned before your fall. The kind used for healing, growing, and harmless pranks. The rest shall remain locked in the vambraces for the rest of your life.”

  
Loki shrugged, “That seems fair. I learned that I truly don’t need my magic any way. But what of my body, Odin All-Father? How am I to recover that?”

  
Odin sighed and looked grim. “I can do nothing, Loki. When I first placed the transformation spell on you, you were but a new-born babe, not set in your appearance as an adult Jotunn like you are now.”

  
“So,” he hesitated, “I am to remain a monster for the rest of my life, even though I have paid for my crimes?”

  
“You no longer see the Jotunn as monsters, if I am to believe Frigga,” Odin said, testily shooting his wife a look that read, ‘See! I knew that he had learned nothing!’

  
“And I don’t,” Loki said, cutting through Odin’s sharp glance. “However, I do not look entirely Jotunn, do I? I would be scorned in their community and rejected here. A beast without a species or a true home.” He looked down at his clawed hands, feeling his despair flow back in.

  
“Loki,” Frigga placed her hand his cool skin. “Please do not think that. There are people here and on Jotunnheim that love you. You just have to be willing to allow them too. Now, get some rest. We’ll leave you alone for now.”

  
“Wait!” Loki said sharply as Odin and Frigga walked towards his door. “You did not answer my question: What happened?”

  
Frigga looked at Odin and inclined her head towards her son. Odin coughed. “You, um, saved the Nine Realms and almost killed yourself by stabbing Thanos with an ice blade to the chest. You would have died and Thanos would have recovered had Thor and I not shown up to finish him off with our combined strengths as King of Asgard and All-Father, but, in risking your life for others in a moment of selfless courage, you broke your sentence and your debt has been repaid. You learned the importance of the lives of all, Loki, and allowed yours to be changed in the process.”

  
The silence permeated the room before Loki spoke again. “Please leave me. I have much to think about. Also, if my cell could be emptied and brought here, I would greatly appreciate it. The artwork, especially, is irreplaceable.”

  
“Of course, my son. Anything for you,” said Frigga as she and Odin left the room and closed his chamber door behind them.


	39. Chapter 39

**Asgard**

  
It had been three days and Loki had still not left his room or allowed anyone to enter it. His personal items from the Midgard Prison had been returned to him late in the afternoon on the first day. The following morning, when his breakfast tray was brought, the servants noticed that the artwork was gone, but did not say a word about it. They returned mid-afternoon to find the food gone, though there was no sign other than that that the prodigal son had returned. This pattern repeated for the next two days.

  
By the morning of the fourth day, Thor had had enough. He had spent most of the last week sitting beside his bedridden daughter. After the first few days, while the healers did not know the cause, they claimed that she had slipped into a magically induced coma. They were unsure if she would waken but the spunky mortal woke suddenly, much to his and Jane’s relief, four days ago, the same day that he had been told that his brother had woken. Aiko was weak, unable to even sit up by herself, but she was still with them, which had made Thor breathe a bit easier. Knowing that Odin had restored some of Loki’s powers and also recognizing that his brother was the most powerful sorcerer in the realm, even with his limited seidr, the King had decided that he had to have words with his younger brother.  
________________________________

  
Thor marched down the golden halls of the palace, leaving Jane and Aiko behind in the healer’s wing, and made good time when he arrived at his hall. The last door on the right remained firmly shut and, though Thor would have been deeply surprised if it was opened, it saddened him to think that his brother thought that he needed to hide. _He has just saved not only Midgard, but all the Nine. He is being childish to think a little blue is going to keep people from honoring him._ The people of Asgard, thanks to the new friendship with Jotunnheim, had seen the added presence of the Jotunn people from time to time. Helblindi and his closest advisors and bravest warriors attended most of Asgards holiday and celebratory feasts, exposing the azure giants to the public slowly. About ten years ago, Thor had asked for Jotunn artisans to come and participate in some of their markets a few times a year. It was not as successful as he had hoped, he and Jane had made most of the purchases, but no blood had been drawn and the palace, at least, was beginning to fill with the intricate stone and glasswork of the Jotunn people.

  
Taking a deep breath, Thor swung the doors back forcefully on their hinges, causing them to bang open. “BROTHER!” he called. Silence was his only answer. The room was just how Loki had left it before his fall from the Bifrost with the exception of a couple of large piles of books that were stacked near the bedroom door. Curious, Thor picked up one of the new titles, reading  Jotunn Tales: Our history for Children. The book on top of the other stack had holes in the cover that looked like they were made by iron nails. It read, The Jotunn Body: A Study of Anatomy and Biology. Curious, but not wanting to be invasive, Thor returned the books to their perspective piles and knocked on the closed bedchamber door. “Loki,” he said firmly. “Please let me in.”

  
A soft reply came from the other side. “No, I am not decent.”

  
Chuckling at his brother’s insecurities, “Why do I have a feeling that you would say that regardless of if you were wearing clothes or not? Please open the door - for your king.”

  
A faint click told Thor that the large black walnut entry was unlocked and, taking his chances, he pushed the door open and closed it behind him. “Thank you, Brother.”

  
“I am not your Brother, not any more,” came the reply from somewhere. A cursory glance of the room, the bed sheets pulled off the bed and onto the floor into a round, nest-like shape, the mattress and the pillows displayed a few holes and feathers sat on the floor, showing him that the man he called ‘Brother’ was not in the room. A light breeze blew the white downy feathers across the grey marble towards the wardrobe and bathing chamber. The french doors to the balcony were open, the wind blowing the sheer emerald drapes. Thor made his way over to the doors and said, “Now why do you say that?”

  
His brother was seated on a reclining chair of black walnut with emerald cushions, facing the front right corner of the balcony in such a way that Thor would only be able to see his back, no matter where he stood. His brother, he had to admit, was more than a little blue, his back and arms visible through the slats of the chair. He still had his raven hair, it was pulled back in the same braid that Aiko wore. _Now I know where she learned it from_ , he thought. Large and prominent, but not gaudy, Loki’s horns rolled back along the sides of his head, slate-grey and shining in the sunlight. His shoulders and neck, exposed to the sun, were covered in those lighter blue lines that Jotunns had for some reason. They were also coated in a thin layer of frost.

  
Realizing that Loki had not answered his question, Thor reached out a hand to touch his shoulder. “Don’t touch me,” Loki hissed. “I am trying to get my body to tolerate the heat and if you touch me right now, you will burn for it.”

  
Thor let his hand drop. “I see that there is much adjustment that you have had to go through in the last few days, Brother. I am sorry that this cannot be reversed to cause you less pain.”

  
Loki laughed, a wild sound in his gravelly voice. “Oh, really? Or is it because you do not want a Jotunn wandering around your shiny kingdom, eating children and scaring housewives?”

  
Thor frowned. “Do not be so self-depreciating, it suits you ill. As King, I have made some changes here, and though progress is slow, you may find that people are less afraid of Frost Giants than they were.” There was no response from Loki. “Please, come inside so we can talk face to face.”

  
“Are you sure you want that, Your Excellency? You may not like what you see,” Loki’s voice was soft. Thor thought it almost sounded nervous.

  
“I may surprise you, Loki. At least give me a chance.” With that, Thor turned and reentered the bedroom, noticing for the first time that the walls were littered with artwork, the most prominent piece, hung over the mantle, featured his new daughter with Loki. They were smiling at each other. Yes, he would get through to Loki, and his brother would help her, saving another life. Their devotion was obvious. He continued into the sitting room and plopped himself down in a chair facing the bedchamber door. 


	40. Chapter 40

**Loki’s Chambers - Asgard**

  
A faint clicking sound, like that of a dog’s nails on stone, reached his ears. The sound stopped, only to start again as a Jotunn entered the room. The blue man was wearing only a loincloth of emerald, leaving his chest, arms, and legs exposed. They were traversed with light blue lines of various patterns. The creatures hands were elegant, just like his brother’s, made for magic not might, with the fingers ending in short, curled claws. The feet were strangely shaped, the arches high and the big toes awkwardly curved, digging the claws into the stone floor, causing the clicking noise. The Jotunn, carefully picked up his feet as he transitioned onto the carpet, the clicking sound stopping. Thor stood, meeting the face from his daughter’s painting for the first time.

  
It still looked like Loki, the sharp cheekbones and high forehead, the nose, eyes, and mouth all held the same shape. The black hair, cascading down the entire length of his back in a single braid, was definitely his brother. The horns were rather startling at first, but once Thor’s heart regained it’s natural rhythm, he decided that they added a dignified air to his sibling, making him appear regal. The ruby eyes were piercing but definitely nervous, not quite making eye contact with Thor’s stormy blue pair. A hint of fang played on the bottom of the blue lips, white and wicked.

  
“Now you see me, _Brother_. Do you still wish to call me that?” Loki’s voice, rougher than the baritone he had had when they had last met, was quiet and unsure.

  
Thor quickly ran to his brother, wrapping his arms around the thin, azure figure in a bone-crushing hug. “Brother, I have missed you.” Loki responded by winding his arms around Thor, smiling and crying at the acceptance that he had never thought he’d see.

  
Thor pulled back, tears at the corners of his blue eyes, smiling like a loon. His eyes roved over Loki’s new face, drinking in the texture and design of the raised lines, the lacquer of the horns, the glint in the ruby eyes. He slowly raised one beefy hand before returning it to his side, not wanting to cross any boundaries.

  
Loki, noticing the twitch, nodded, saying, “It’s alright, Your Majesty. I do not mind.” Thor brought his hand up to Loki’s face, tracing the Jotunn ridges. He asked, “What are these, Loki? I have seen them on Jotunn before but I have never had the courage to ask.”

  
Loki’s mouth twitched into a smile. “They are known as Jotunn ridges, and they tell the story of the Jotunn that they are drawn on. There are sets that have specific meanings, promises of greatness, family histories, the like, and others that are solely individual.”

  
“And what do yours mean, Brother? If you don’t mind me asking such a personal question.” Thor’s fingers continued to trace the lines, working his way slowly down Loki’s body.

Biting his lip against the stimulation he was feeling, Loki said, “The lines on the top of my head are known as the Crown of Ymir. It is a connection of the Crown, a royal lineage marking that is hidden by my hair, and the Horns, the markings of a sorcerer on my brow around my actual horns, the monstrosities that they are. The Crown of Ymir is very rare among the Jotunn and it symbolizes a powerful sorcerer and a great leader.”

  
Thor nodded, “I can see why you have those markings, Loki. You have always been destined to be more than a second son, adopted or otherwise.” His fingers were retracing Loki’s Horns and retreating back into his hairline to feel the Crown.

  
Sighing at the pleasurable affect that Thor’s gentle tracing caused, Loki continued. “The ridges that run from my eyes are known as Bergelmir’s Tears. They were supposedly caused by the tears of my ancestor, Bergelmir, who survived a Jotunn slaughter at the hands of the Aesir and cried tears so hot that they permanently disfigured his skin. Only Jotunn of his line carry those marks. The rest of the Jotunn ridges on my face are mine. I do not think they symbolize anything, they just hide my Aesir face.”

  
Thor’s fingers traced Berglemir’s Tears before saying, “I don’t think they hide your face at all. In fact, I think they enhance it quite nicely, bringing out your cheekbones, forehead, and lips. But please continue Brother, this is fascinating.”

  
A smile twitching at the corner of his mouth, happy to know that Thor found his face to be recognizable. Loki said, “The next set of lines are my Mantle. They cover my shoulders and the upper part of my chest in a shape that is similar to a cloth mantle, hence the name. They symbolize leadership. My Mantle flows partially down my back.” He shuddered as Thor’s fingers followed his voice there. “It connects to my Wings, the Jotunn ridges that cover my sides and flow around my front to what is considered to be the most significant set of ridges, the Heart.” Loki paused, allowing Thor’s hands to catch up. “The Heart symbols are found between the upper chest and naval and are only manifest during maturity. They symbolize and acknowledge the ability of the Jotunn to find a mate and produce and bear young.”

  
Thor traced Loki’s Heart and chuckled softly. “What is it Thor? What do you find so amusing?” Loki asked defensively. He was putting himself out there and Thor was laughing at him.

  
“It is not funny, Brother. I apologize if I have caused you to feel exposed. I was just thinking that the Heart shows everyone that you, Loki of Asgard and Jotunnheim, the Scourge of Midgard and Enemy of the People, have a Heart.”

  
Loki snorted. “I think my being here has proven that, _Brother_. That and a certain mortl....” He stopped, quickly changing the subject. “On my arms are two other sets of Jotunn ridges. The upper arms have Rings, another royal symbol. The presence of both Ring and Crown proves that I am a direct member of the royal line. I can no longer deny that Laufey is my bearer and Farbauti my sire.”

  
Seeing Thor’s questioning glance as he traced Loki’s Rings, Loki quickly moved on to the final ridge, not wanting to explain the intimate details of his body’s reproductive capabilities. “The final Jotunn ridge that has a purpose are the lines on my hands and forearms. Those are known as Claws and they are the sign of a warrior. The rest are mine, no significance besides emphasizing my individuality.”

  
Thor, finished with his tracing sat back down in the chair facing Loki. Loki sat as well, not taking his eyes off of his brother, nervous about the information that he had just exposed - his entire heritage and life graffitied across his body and every line’s purpose exposed to the man who could ruin him and send him away.


	41. Chapter 41

**Asgard**

  
Thor sat for a moment, pondering all the information that Loki had willingly given him. This new, open Loki was strange to him. His brother was usually so secretive when it came to any kind of personal query. His captivity had changed him, Thor realized, in more than just appearance and thoughtless acts of heroism. It was as if Loki’s soul had been washed clean, the grime of the criminal, manipulative and full of secrets and dark power, was gone, leaving someone who was going to make a place for himself in the world once he was able to make the final leap from self-acceptance to self-love. Thor vowed that he would help shape that person and use him, with all of his powerful potential that was written on his body, to create a peace throughout the Nine that would last until the coming of Ragnarok.

  
“Loki, I have a proposal for you,” Thor said, his voice conveying the gravity of the situation. The Jotunn stiffened at the sentence, unsure of what to expect. Thor had seemed to accept him well enough, but Loki would not put it past his brother to ask or command him, as the King of Asgard, to do something that would be insensitive or uncomfortable.

  
“I will listen to your proposal, King of Asgard,” he replied, inclining his horned head towards the large blond sitting across from him.

  
“Please, Loki. That is enough with the titles. You said earlier that you are not my brother anymore. What has caused you to say such a hurtful thing?” Thor’s eyes were wide, questioning and obviously pained by Loki’s lack of reciprocation of brotherly love.

  
Loki, looking shamefaced but hard. “We, Thor, are not biologically related in any way. Yes, we were raised together and played together and fought together, but...Look at me. Your people would never accept me again in my Aesir form because of my crimes. Odin, All-Father, has told me that I will never see that face in the mirror again, leaving me a creature of two worlds - Jotunn by blood and Aesir by soul. Odin himself can barely stand the sight of me! No king, especially not one as noble as you, deserves to call a monster ‘Brother.’ I release you from the obligation of being my sibling. And, so, though I love you dearly, I know that I will never be a part of your family again, and thus, I am not your brother.”

  
Thor’s jaw dropped as he stared at the man sitting across from him, idly stroking one of his horns. Loki had been so determined to prove to Thor that he did not deserve brotherly love that he had openly admitted his love to Thor.

  
“But, you love me, Loki, and I love you. Is that not enough? Cannot the love that we have, adoption aside, keep our brotherly bond?” Thor spoke quietly, looking Loki full in his ruby eyes. “What if I do not want to give up my brother, no matter what the people say, and no matter what he looks like?”

  
Shocked by Thor’s confession, Loki breathed a quivering exhale. “I...I would like that very much...Brother.”

  
“Good,” said Thor. “Now that that is settled, let me lay before you my proposal. As the Prince of Asgard, the second son - and before you protest, you are still recognized as such, no matter what Odin said, I am King now, and you are my brother - As the second son, you have the right to act as my chief advisor in all manners of the realm. My current chief advisor is Volstagg, and, well, nothing is getting done except some wonderful feasts. Also, by having you, a representative and Prince of Jotunnheim, our peace with the two realms will flourish and most of the prejudice will dissipate. You are the most powerful sorcerer that I have ever witnessed, and frankly, your expertise is unmatched. Your experiences on Midgard and in the Void make you a perfect candidate, and, through Asgardian Law, it is yours by right any way. What say you, Brother? Will you accept my offer to live up to those lines on you body and become a true leader of the Nine?”

  
Loki sat perfectly still, his face blank, betraying no emotion. Internally, he was in turmoil. Accepting this position would make him a public figure and thus opening him to derision and scorn. Rejecting it would only lead to harming the realms that he had just risked his life to save. _What would Aiko want me to do?_ Well, the answer was obvious. He needed to make her proud.

  
“I accept your offer, My King,” he said, humbly, placing his ridged hand over his blue heart.

  
“Excellent! Now come with me. There is something you must do.”


	42. Chapter 42

**Healer’s Wing - Asgard**

  
Loki followed Thor through the familiar gilded halls of the palace, blessedly empty, the bright sun and opulent light taking their toll on his body and eyes. He was beginning to feel very warm and uncomfortable. _I cannot wait until I am fully recovered and can use my seidr to end this blasted torture._ In his mind he began constructing a ring with an emerald stone that would connect to the Casket of Ancient Winters, drawing on it’s power to keep him cool without draining himself. It would have to wait, however, until he had recovered fully.

  
Rounding the bend, Loki noticed that Thor had brought him to the healer’s wing. “What is this, Thor?” Loki stopped, unsure of why his brother would bring him here. “I thought you said that you loved me?”

  
Thor turned back to him, his eyes concerned. “I do. Why would you think that I don’t?”

  
Loki gave a small, bashful smile, casting his eyes down shamefully. “I-I thought that you might have brought me here to run tests on me. Experiments and....I-I am sorry that I doubted you, Brother.”

  
Thor’s large hand landed on Loki’s shoulder. “No one, my Brother, will ever do any of those things without your permission. I will not let you come to harm. Now come, your first task is at hand.” Opening a small door in the hallway, Thor gestured Loki inside and closed the door. A group of healers were busily bustling around the single bed in the room. A woman lay on it, her back to them. At the sound of the door closing, the healers and Jane, indeed the woman on the bed, turned and stared. A clatter broke the silence as a tray of instruments hit the floor. Trying to ignore the shocked, frightened, and outright angry looks directed at him Loki asked, “Jane?”

  
Aroused by the sound of her name, Jane hurriedly got off the bed and ran to him, wrapping him into her arms. “Oh, thank goodness, Loki,” she breathed before turning to her husband. “She has gotten worse.”

  
Thor looked worried as both he and Jane looked back at a lump of sheets twitching on the bed. “Loki, our daughter has contracted a strange magical illness and no one has the skill to help her. Can you?”

  
“I will try, my King, but I am still weak from my brush with death and the environment is not helping. I will see what I can do.” Letting go of Jane and giving Thor’s arm a squeeze, Loki walked towards the bed. When his eyes fell on the figure wrapped in the white sheets, he broke into a run. “AIKO!” he shouted, joy and fear simultaneously coursing through him.

  
Kneeling at her bedside, he ran a blue hand over her sweltering brow. “My dearest Aiko. Why...How are you here?”

  
He turned to face Thor and Jane, his eyes wide and questioning. “We adopted her,” Thor said matter-of-factly, “But we can discuss that another time, after she has recovered. Please, Loki, help her.”

  
Loki, already busily running his newly returned seidr through Aiko’s system, did not need to be told twice. His entire existence was lying on this bed and he had to save her.

  
_Her organs are fine, functioning fully - for now. She is terribly warm, a fever of about 102, I think. I can find nothing, nothing. What is wrong? What am I miss - Oh. There you are._

  
A hard bolt of purple magic had wrapped itself around her spinal column, hidden behind her heart and lungs. Loki knew it the moment his seidr had touched it. It was Thanos’ spell that connected their fates and lives, the one he had cast to compel him to cooperate in his final minutes. Turning to face Thor and Jane, his right hand still resting on Aiko’s sweltering brow, Loki said calmly, “I know what is wrong and I can fix it. It is a complex binding spell that Thanos placed upon her, connecting her essence to mine. It was how he threatened me in my cell in an attempt to coerce me into cooperating with him. She is feeling the residual effects of the emptying of my Jotunn seidr into Thanos as well as the effect that Asgard is having on my body. I need two things: a large tub of ice and all of the healers who find me personally offensive to leave.”

  
The last few words came out as a snap, startling more of the healers and causing mumbling among their ranks. A small, willowy woman in the white robes of a healer stepped forward and addressed Thor and Jane. “Are you sure this is wise, Your Majesties? He could harm the child further.”

  
Loki had had it, whirling his horned head around, braid flying, he was about to really give her something to scream about when he heard Thor’s booming, kingly voice. “No harm will come to Princess Aiko from _Prince_ Loki. He has done what no one else has been able to do and he can stop it’s ravages. You _will_ do as he says. If you are not willing to help my Jotunn brother because of his species or past, then you are dismissed.”

  
Shuffling papers and feet and the replacement of tools onto sterilized trays filled the room. The door swung open and stayed open until all but one healer had left the brightly lit room. “I will help you, My Lord. To the best of my ability.”

  
Loki turned a ruby eye on her. She was short and obviously Vanir from her dark hair and thin dark eyes. She appeared to be a bit shy under his scrutiny, but she looked determine not to abandon her post. Smiling and inclining his head at her before returning to Aiko, he asked, “What is your name?”

  
“Asha, My Lord. If it pleases you.”

  
“Thank you Asha for your dedication to your craft in the face of adversity. Thor, be sure to give her a more honored position for the future.” He observed a steady increase of Aiko’s heart rate as the stifling heat of the room began to bear down on him. “Asha, I need that ice now. I’m sure the King will assist you in moving the required tub.”

  
“Of course, My Lord. Right away, My Lord. Please follow me, Your Majesty.”  
_______________________________

  
Loki lay, half submerged in the tub of ice, finally feeling comfortable for the first time since waking up on Asgard. He could feel his Jotunn seidr returning to his weary body and mingling with his returned Aesir seidr. He was beginning to feel like himself again.

  
Aiko was doing much better because of it as well. Her fever had dissipated and her breathing was easier. Her heart rate was strong and steady, filling Loki, Thor, and Jane with relief. She had not woken yet, as Loki was keeping her asleep while he worked.

  
The purple magic was slowly giving way to his green and ice blue seidr. The entire process was tedious, like picking at a large, convoluted knot of plum thread, but, due to Aiko’s lack of seidr and vulnerable mortal state, he could not just rip it from her body.   
_____________________________________

  
The entire process took over two hours, seven tub fulls of ice, and a lot of silence, not that Loki required the last one. Thor and Jane sat, hands clasped together, listening to Loki’s small exclamations as he unraveled the web that ensnared their daughter. Asha flitted about, helpfully grabbing anything that Loki mentioned, primarily ice.

  
With an “Aha!” the Prince of Asgard began to slowly pull the purple magic into his own body through his right arm, which lay over Aiko’s sternum, and out into his left hand, creating a massive ball as the residual magic within him was painfully ripped out. Sinking lower into the ice water, Loki withdrew his right hand and raised it to the perfectly round ball, it’s plum coloring swirling like a vortex. Inhaling slowly through his nose, he concentrated what was left of his combined seidrs through his hands to crush the magic and eradicate it from the earth. Instead, a familiar pulling sensation occurred, dragging Loki’s green, Aesir seidr into the vambraces and causing the ball of dark magic to freeze over. He released an exasperated sigh, dropping his head backwards, earning him a solid clunk of his horns against the tubs rim.

  
“Thor, I have need of you brother,” he said easing his head higher out of the water to allow his horns to rest in the air above the tub. Thor rushed over.

  
“What is it Loki?” he inquired, gaze flicking to the ball, to Aiko who slumbered peacefully, and Loki, who was using one of his clawed hands to message his brow.

  
“Use Mjölnir to destroy this,” he intoned, holding the magic out to the God of Thunder. “Your Father will not allow my seidr to be used for destruction.” Thor just stared at the ball. “Please take it. It won’t bite.” Loki jiggled his hand holding the ball at Thor until he felt the ball being lifted out of his palm. He let his hand flop down, splashing into the icy water in the tub. “Ah...I don’t think I have ever felt so good.”

  
Thor held the ball in his left hand, his right was held out straight, summoning Mjölnir. About two seconds later, the ball was inside a gilded chamber pot and Mjölnir was swung forcefully down onto it, causing a loud CLONG to ring through the room. The purple mass shattered, blown to dust by the lightning wielded by the worthy king.

  
Loki sighed, “I did not mean that you had to do it here. Oh well, what’s done is done. Asha, please take what remains of the chamber pot, pour it into a vial and bring it to the All-Father. He can add it to his collection of relics. And thank you, my dear for your help. It was greatly appreciated.”

  
He smiled at her kindly but her eyes went wide all the same as she murmured, “Of course, My Lord. It was an honor to serve such a powerful sorcerer such as yourself.” It was only after she’s left the room that Loki realized that he’d given her the whole fang-y display.


	43. Chapter 43

**Healer’s Wing - Asgard**

  
Loki lounged in the tub until the water felt warm, enjoying the coolness against his assailed skin. Begrudgingly, as the water warmed, he roused himself to sitting and pulled himself out of the tub, leaving a large puddle where he stood. “Could I get a towel?” he asked sheepishly, dripping water onto the marble floor.

  
Asha left and quickly returned with a fluffy white cloth, offering it to him. He took it from her, his claws promptly poking holes in the fabric and getting caught in the fine threads. Shaking it off of his hands, he wiped the floor with the towel and stood on it, allowing his body to air dry. “Thank you, Asha. Now, get some rest. I don’t think you will be needed for a while.” He smiled at her kindly, this time keeping his lips firmly closed.

  
“Asha,” Thor’s booming voice stopped the girl before she had reached the doors. The healer turned and curtsied to her king. “As thanks for what you have done today, I ask that you allow me to bestow the honor of Chief Healer, Second class. You will be second only to Eir and you will become the personal healer of Princess Aiko and Prince Loki, should he need it. Do you accept this office?”

  
The Vanir woman was stunned, her expression of pure joy was priceless in Loki’s eyes. “Yuh-yes, My Lord, My King. What an honor! I humbly accept this position. Thank you,” Asha stammered, overwhelmed. She quickly curtsied and exited swiftly, leaving the little family alone in the room.

  
Thor and Jane moved over the Aiko’s bedside, each took one of her hands and murmured sweet nothings in her ear. Loki remained standing on the towel, feeling like an intruder as the three of them had a private moment.

  
“I should return to my rooms,” he said sheepishly as he made to move off the towel, his skin already beginning to heat up from the sun.

  
“No, Loki. Please stay,” Jane said. “We have to talk.” Loki nodded and walked to a corner in the shade.

  
“I will stay here, if you don’t mind. The sun is brutal.” He slid slowly down the cool marble wall and sat on the towel, allowing it to collect the water that still clung to his body and loincloth.

  
“Of course, what ever makes you comfortable,” Jane said softly before continuing. “We need to tell you about how Aiko came to be with us. Right Thor?” She gave him a meaningful look.

  
“Yes, yes, my wife, anything you want.”

  
“It started twenty years ago, after our wedding, when I became pregnant with our first child, a baby boy we were going to call Loki, after you. It was Thor’s idea, but I liked it. Odin did not seem pleased, but Frigga nearly cried when we announced it. Any way, at about the six month mark, something inside me went wrong and...” Jane took a shaky breath.

  
Thor picked up the take, saying, “We lost the babe, your namesake, and Jane was told that she will never bear children.” Loki’s brow furrowed, his eyes downcast.

  
“I am so sorry for your loss. That is terrible news,” he murmured, missing the child that bore his name that he would never meet. He felt for Jane, most women longed to carry a child of their own and she would never have the privilege of doing so. And the kingdom, what of the royal line? Who would the crown pass to without a male heir?

  
Jane collected herself and continued, “We tried many things to conceive again, but nothing worked. Then, some years ago now, Thor had mentioned that you had been adopted and how it had changed your life, and his. I think I already knew that but had forgotten. Anyway, we began to apply to adoption agencies. With Thor’s busy schedule running the kingdom and saving the Nine with the Avengers,” Loki winced visibly, “We knew that a newborn would not have been right for us.”

  
“Jane, you are very busy running a kingdom as well as doing your sciencing. Do not make yourself out to be insignificant.”

  
“Thor! Let me finish!” Jane elbowed him lightly in the ribs. “Anyway, about six months ago, while Ultron was leveling the Midwest, Thor and I were living almost full-time in Avenger Tower, which, of course, has wonderful internet access. We saw Aiko’s picture and read her little bio and knew that we needed her. She just sounded like the perfect girl with her beauty, artistic talents, and intelligence that could stand up to, well, mine! That and she had Thor’s eyes.”

  
“And your hair Jane! It would be like she was actually ours. We jumped through a couple of loopholes and, well, here we are! Our daughter not even here a day and she wound up in the Healer’s Wing. We are wonderful parents, are we not?” Thor was grinning at Loki as Jane looked lovingly at the daughter who lay in the blankets beneath them.

  
“You are right, she is perfect,” Loki murmured, jealous that Thor and Jane were able to give Aiko the one thing that he could not. “She is so very special.”

  
“Is that all you’re going to say, Brother? Are you not angry that we have taken her from you? I saw the painting, both of them actually. She really cares for you, and I know that you care for her.”

  
“Yes, I do and nothing will change that but, realize this, you can give her the one thing that I never could, that I **never can** : The semblance of a normal, family life with a mother and a father who love her deeply. All I could give her was love and support a few hours here and there and I hated it. I felt so useless. I healed her cuts, kissed her bruises, taught her self-defense to use against the bullies. I picked up the pieces every time she was shuffled to a new foster home. I was the only constant. I would like to remain that way, if you will allow me, but I know now as I knew then, she can never truly be my daughter, even though it kills me to say it. She deserves you, and so, I bow out gracefully.” Loki inclined his head, arms opened and spread in a mock salute, hiding the tears that threatened to fall from his eyes.

  
Silence fell as the three adults let the words spoken by the Jotunn advisor sink in. Jane looked meaningfully at Thor, who shrugged, sticking his lower lip out and raising his eyebrows. Jane nodded. Once Aiko was feeling better, she would talk to the All-Father and All-Mother about this.

  
The silence was broken by a barely audible, “Blue?”

  
Loki was at Aiko’s bedside in no time, faster than if he had teleported. He fell to his knees as he slipped on the wet floor, crashing into the bed frame and reaching for Aiko’s face. “I am here, my darling. I am here!” His smile was so broad, the sun dimmed in it’s presence.

  
Aiko slowly opened her sky blue eyes, searching for the source of that voice that she longed to hear. Her eyes first went to Jane, her new mother’s eyes were gleaming and tears ran in rivulets down her rosy cheeks. Behind her, but clearly visible due to his bulk, was Thor, his smile was broad and genuine. His stormy eyes flicked towards the person on her left side, causing her gaze to shift and fall onto Blue. _Blue. Blue is here._

  
“What happened?” she whispered, her voice rasping. “You finally turn into a bird and flew after me?” Loki’s already large grin became broader still. His hands reached up and stroked her hair, tumbled out of her braid in her sleep, and cupped her cheek.

  
“No, Aiko. My punishment was ended fairly,” he said, pride filling his voice as he watched the woman that he called his daughter smile back at him with admiration. “Besides, I had to find you. I promised you I would.”

 

To be continued....

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To be continued...


End file.
